When  Knighthood  Was  In  Flower 


COULD  YOU  MAKE  HIM 
DUKE  OF  SUFFOLK?" 


WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS 
IN  FLOWER 


OR 


THE  LOVE  STORY  OF 

gvattdon  and  2JXa*nj 

THE  KING'S  SISTER,  AND  HAPPENING  IN  THE  REIGN  OF 
HIS  AUGUST  MAJESTY,  KING  HENRY  VIII 


REWRITTEN  AND  RENDERED  INTO  MODERN  ENGLISH  FROM 
SIR  EDWIN  CASKODEN'S  MEMOIR 

BY  EDWIN  CASKODEN 

[CHARLES   MAJOR] 


THOUSAND 


INDIANAPOLIS,  INDIANA,  U.   S.   A. 

THE  BOWEN-MERRILL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1898 

By 
The  Bowen-Merrill  Company 


HENRY  MORSE 


Published  September,  1898.  Reprinted  in  October,  twice 
in  November,  three  times  in  December,  1898,  three  times  in 
January,  1899,  twice  in  February,  five  times  in  March,  three 
times  in  April,  and  three  times  in  May,  July,  August,  and 
September,  four  times  in  October  and  November.  The  sub 
sequent  editions  make  a  total  of  over  one-quarter  million 
copies  printed  of  this  book. 


?  p , 


TO  MY  WIPE 


5  !42.i  3 


CONTENTS 


tHAP, 

I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 


FAG* 

THE  CASKODENS         ,  1 

THE  DUEL     .  5 

How  BRANDON  CAME  TO  COURT          ,  .     11 

THE  PRINCESS  MARY     .  19 

A  LESSON  IN  DANCING       .         ,         .  .37 

AN  HONOR  AND  AN  ENEMY    ,         ,         .  61 

A  RIDE  TO  WINDSOR          .         .         ,  .73 

LOVE'S  FIERCE  SWEETNESS    ...  83 

THE  TROUBLE  IN  BILLINGSGATE  WARD  .     104 

PUT  NOT  YOUR  TRUST  IN  PRINCESSES    .  119 

JUSTICE,  O  KING  !      .         .         ,         ,  .138 

Louis  XII  A  SUITOR      ....  149 

ATONEMENT        .  166 

A  GIRL'S  CONSENT        ....  175 
IN  THE  SIREN  COUNTRY      ....  186 

To  MAKE  A  MAN  OF  HER       .         .         .  201 

A  HAWKING  PARTY    .•»  211 

THE  ELOPEMENT  .                  .         .         .  221 

To  THE  TOWER 238 

PROSERPINA 249 

DOWN  INTO  FRANCE  .  263 

LETTERS  FROM  A  QUEEN         .         .         .  277 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGB 

"  COULD  YOU  MAKE  HIM  DUKE  OF  SUFFOLK  ?  "       «       .       .        Frontispiece 
"  HAVE  I  THE  HONOR  TO  FIND  THE  PRINCESS?"         .       .      e      .      .      .      29 

M  MY  LORD  HAS  DROPPED  HIS  SWORD." 65 

81  WHEN  WE  CAME  UP        ...        MARY  SAID,  '  I  FEAR  MY  GIRTH  IS 

LOOSE.'"          75 

-'  BRANDON  THRUST  HIS  SWORD  INTO  THE  HORSE'S  THROAT."     .     .  116 

:(  I  RODE  UP  TO  THE  KING  AND  WITH  UNCOVERED  HEAD 

ADDRESSED  HIM.     ..." 142 

le  IT  IS  MY  TURN  TO  ASK  FORGIVENESS.     ..." 171 

|{  SHE  WENT  ALONE,  ONE  AFTERNOON,  TO  SEE  BRANDON."     .    .    .  193 

*! 'GOOD-BYE,  MY  FRIEND,'  .    .    .    AND  SHE  FLEW  HER  BIRD  .  .  ."  214 

64  .    .    .    I  DELIVERED  THE  REST  OF  MARY'S  MESSAGE."  .     .    .     .  220 

**  ,     .     .     ONE  OF  THOSE  BLACK  NIGHTS  FIT  FOR  WITCH  TRAVEL 
ING."    . 222 

*  THESE  FELLOWS       .       .       .       GATHERED    ABOUT    MARY  TO  INSPECT 

HER." 231 

K*  AT  MIDNIGHT  A  BODY  OF  YEOMEN      .       .       .       TOOK  POSSESSION  OF 

THE  BOW  AND  STRING."      '       .       . 238 

*  MARY  ,       .       SAID,   'IT  WAS  LIKE  A  PLAY  WEDDING.'"     ,       ,       .    269 


'"Cloth  of  gold  do  not  despise, 

Though  thou  be  match'd  with  cloth  of  frize; 

Cloth  of  frize,  be  not  too  bold, 

Though  thou  be  match'd  with  cloth  of  gold." 


*  Inscription  on  a  label  affixed  to  Brandon's  lance  nnder  a  pictnrs 
of  Mary  Tudor  and  Charles  Brandon,  at  Strawberry  Hill. 


"There  lived  a  Knight,  when  Knighthood  was  in  fiow'r, 
Who  charmed  alike  the  tilt-yard  and  the  bow'r." 


WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 


THE  CASKODENS 

We  Caskodens  take  great  pride  in  our  ancestry.  Some 
persons,  I  know,  hold  all  that  to  be  totally  un-Solomon- 
like  and  the  height  of  vanity,  but  they,  usually,  have  no 
ancestors  of  whom  to  be  proud.  The  man  who  does  not 
know  who  his  great-grandfather  was,  naturally  enough 
would  not  care  what  he  was.  The  Caskodens  have  pride 
of  ancestry  because  they  know  both  who  and  what. 

Even  admitting  that  it  is  vanity  at  all,  it  is  an  impersonal 
sort  of  failing,  which,  like  the  excessive  love  of  country, 
leans  virtueward  ;  for  the  man  who  fears  to  disgrace  his 
ancestors  is  certainly  less  likely  to  disgrace  himself.  Of 
course  there  are  a  great  many  excellent  persons  who  can 
go  no  further  back  than  papa  and  mamma,  who,  doubt 
less,  eat  and  drink  and  sleep  as  well,  and  love  as  happily, 
as  if  they  could  trace  an  unbroken  lineage  clear  back  to 
Adam  or  Xoah,  or  somebody  of  that  sort.  Nevertheless, 
we  Caskodens  are  proud  of  our  ancestry,  and  expect  to 
remain  so  to  the  end  of  the  chapter,  regardless  of  whom 
it  pleases  or  displeases. 

We  have  a  right  to  be  proud,  for  there  is  an  unbroken 
male  line  from  William  the  Conqueror  down  to  the  pres 
ent  time.  In  this  lineal  list  are  fourteen  Barons  —  the  title 
lapsed  when  Charles  I  fell  —  twelve  Knights  of  the  Garter 
and  forty-seven  Knights  of  Bath  and  other  orders.  -A 

(O 


2          WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

Caskoden  distinguished  himself  by  gallant  service  under 
the  Great  Norman  and  was  given  rich  English  lands  and 
a  fair  Saxon  bride,  albeit  an  unwilling  one,  as  his  reward. 
With  this  fair,  unwilling  Saxon  bride  and  her  long  plait 
of  yellow  hair  goes  a  very  pretty,  pathetic  story,  which  I 
may  tell  you  at  some  future  time  if  you  take  kindly  to  this. 
A  Caskoden  was  seneschal  to  William  Rufus,  and  sat  at 
the  rich,  half  barbaric  banquets  in  the  first  Great  Hall. 
Still  another  was  one  of  the  doughty  barons  who  wrested 
from  John  the  Great  Charter,  England's  declaration  of 
independence ;  another  was  high  in  the  councils  of  Henry 
V.  I  have  omitted  one  whom  I  should  not  fail  to  mention : 
Adjodika  Caskoden,  who  was  a  member  of  the  Dunce  Par 
liament  of  Henry  IV,  so  called  because  there  were  no 
lawyers  in  it. 

It  is  true  that  in  the  time  of  Edward  IV  a  Caskoden  did 
stoop  to  trade,  but  it  was  trade  of  the  most  dignified,  hon 
orable  sort;  he  was  a  goldsmith,  and  his  guild,  as  you 
know,  were  the  bankers  and  international  clearance  house 
for  people,  king  and  nobles.  Besides,  it  is  stated  on  good 
authority  that  there  was  a  great  scandal  wherein  the  gold 
smith's  wife  was  mixed  up  in  an  intrigue  with  the  noble 
King  Edward ;  so  we  learn  that  even  in  trade  the  Casko- 
dens  were  of  honorable  position  and  basked  in  the  smile  of 
their  prince.  As  for  myself,  I  am  not  one  of  those  who 
object  so  much  to  trade ;  and  I  think  it  contemptible  in  a 
iHian  to  screw  his  nose  all  out  of  place  sneering  at  it,  while 
•enjoying  every  luxury  of  life  from  its  profits. 

This  goldsmith  was  shrewd  enough  to  turn  what  some 
persons  might  call  his  ill  fortune,  in  one  way,  into  gain  in 
another.  He  was  one  of  those  happily  constituted,  thrifty 
philosophers  who  hold  that  even  misfortune  should  not  be 
wasted,  and  that  no  evil  is  so  great  but  the  alchemy  of 


THE  CASKODENS  3 

common  sense  can  transmute  some  part  of  it  into  good. 
So  he  coined  the  smiles  which  the  king  shed  upon  his  wife 
— he  being  powerless  to  prevent,  for  Edward  smiled  where 
he  listed,  and  listed  nearly  everywhere — into  nobles, 
crowns  and  pounds  sterling,  and  left  a  glorious  fortune  to 
his  son  and  to  his  son's  son,  unto  about  the  fourth  genera 
tion,  which  was  a  ripe  old  age  for  a  fortune,  I  think. 
How  few  of  them  live  beyond  the  second,  and  fewer  still 
beyond  the  third.  It  was  during  the  third  generation  of 
this  fortune  that  the  events  of  the  following  history  oc 
curred. 

Now,  it  has  been  the  custom  of  the  Caskodens  for  centu 
ries  to  keep  a  record  of  events,  as  they  have  happened, 
both  private  and  public.  Some  are  in  the  form  of  diaries 
and  journals  like  those  of  Pepys  and  Evelyn ;  others  in  let 
ters  like  the  Pastons ;  others  again  in  verse  and  song  like 
Chaucer  and  the  Water  Poet ;  and  still  others  in  the  more 
pretentious  line  of  memoir  and  chronicle.  These  records 
we  always  have  kept  jealously  within  our  family,  thinking 
it  vulgar,  like  the  Pastons,  to  submit  our  private  affairs  to 
public  gaze. 

There  can,  however,  be  no  reason  why  those  parts 
treating  solely  of  outside  matters  should  be  so  carefully 
guarded,  and  I  have  determined  to  choose  for  publication 
such  portions  as  do  not  divulge  family  secrets  nor  skele 
tons,  and  which  really  redound  to  family  honor. 

For  this  occasion  I  have  selected  from  the  memoir  of 
my  worthy  ancestor  and  namesake,  Sir  Edwin  Caskoden — 
grandson  of  the  goldsmith,  and  Master  of  the  Dance  to 
Henry  VII — the  story  of  Charles  Brandon  and  Mary  Tu 
dor,  sister  to  the  king. 

This  story  is  so  well  known  to  the  student  of  English 
history  that  I  fear  its  repetition  will  lack  that  zest  which 


4  WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

attends  the  development  of  an  unforeseen  denouement. 
But  it  is  of  so  great  interest,  and  is  so  full,  in  its  sweet, 
fierce  manifestation,  of  the  one  thing  insoluble  by  time, 
Love,  that  I  will  nevertheless  rewrite  it  from  old  Sir 
Edwin's  memoir.  Not  so  much  as  an  historical  narrative, 
although  I  fear  a  little  history  will  creep  in,  despite  me, 
but  simply  as  a  picture  of  that  olden  long  ago,  which,  try 
as  we  will  to  put  aside  the  hazy,  many-folded  curtain  of 
time,  still  retains  its  shadowy  lack  of  sharp  detail,  toning 
down  and  mellowing  the  hard  aspect  of  real  life — harder 
and  more  unromantic  even  than  our  own — into  the  blend 
ing  softness  of  an  exquisite  mirage. 

I  might  give  you  the  exact  words  in  which  Sir  Edwin 
wrote,  and  shall  now  and  then  quote  from  contemporane 
ous  chronicles  in  the  language  of  his  time,  but  should  I  so 
write  at  all,  I  fear  the  pleasure  of  perusal  would  but  poorly 
pay  for  the  trouble,  as  the  English  of  the  Bluff  King  is 
almost  a  foreign  tongue  to  us.  I  shall,  therefore,  with  a 
few  exceptions,  give  Sir  Edwin's  memoir  in  words,  spell 
ing  and  idiom  which  his  rollicking  little  old  shade  will 
probably  repudiate  as  none  of  his  whatsoever.  So,  if  you 
happen  to  find  sixteenth  century  thought  hobnobing  in  the 
same  sentence  with  nineteenth  century  English,  be  not 
disturbed ;  I  did  it :  If  the  little  old  fellow  grows  grandil 
oquent  or  garrulous  at  the  time — he  did  that.  If  you  find 
him  growing  super-sentimental,  remember  that  sentiment- 
alism  was  the  life-breath  of  chivalry  just  then  approaching 
its  absurdest  climax  in  the  bombastic  conscientiousness  of 
Bayard  and  the  whole  mental  atmosphere  laden  with  its 
pompous  nonsense. 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  DUEL 

It  sometimes  happens,  Sir  Edwin  says,  that  when  a 
woman  will  she  won't,  and  when  she  won't  she  will ;  but 
usually  in  the  end  the  adage  holds  good.  That  sentence 
may  not  be  luminous  with  meaning,  but  I  will  give  you  an 
illustration. 

I  think  it  was  in  the  spring  of  1509,  at  any  rate  soon 
after  the  death  of  the  "Modern  Solomon,"  as  Queen  Cath 
erine  called  her  old  father-in-law,  the  late  King  Henry 
VII,  that  his  august  majesty  Henry  VIII,  "The  Vndubi- 
tate  Flower  and  very  Heire  of  both  the  sayd  Linages," 
came  to  the  throne  of  England,  and  tendered  me  the  hon 
orable  position  of  Master  of  the  Dance  at  his  sumptuous 
court. 

As  to  "worldly  goods,"  as  some  of  the  new  religionists 
call  wealth,  I  was  very  comfortably  off ;  having  inherited 
from  my  father,  one  of  the  counselors  of  Henry  VII,  a 
very  competent  fortune  indeed.  How  my  worthy  father 
contrived  to  save  from  the  greedy  hand  of  that  rich  old 
miser  so  great  a  fortune,  I  am  sure  I  can  not  tell.  He  was 
the  only  man  of  my  knowledge  who  did  it;  for  the  old 
king  had  a  reach  as  long  as  the  kingdom,  and,  upon  one 
pretext  or  another,  appropriated  to  himself  everything  on 
which  he  could  lay  his  hands.  My  father,  however,  was 
himself  pretty  shrewd  at  money  matters,  having  inherited 
along  with  his  fortune  a  rare  knack  for  keeping  it.  His 
father  was  a  goldsmith  in  the  time  of  King  Edward, 

(5) 


6          WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

and  enjoyed  the  marked  favor  of  that  puissant  prince. 

Being  thus  in  a  position  of  affluence,  I  cared  nothing  for 
the  fact  that  little  or  no  emolument  went  with  the  office ; 
it  was  the  honor  which  delighted  me.  Besides,  I  was 
thereby  an  inmate  of  the  king's  palace,  and  brought  into 
intimate  relations  with  the  court,  and,  above  all,  with  the 
finest  ladies  of  the  land — the  best  company  a  man  can 
keep,  since  it  ennobles  his  mind  with  better  thoughts,  pur 
ifies  his  heart  with  cleaner  motives,  and  makes  him  gentle 
without  detracting  from  his  strength.  It  was  an  office  any 
lord  of  the  kingdom  might  have  been  proud  to  hold. 

Now,  some  four  or  five  years  after  my  induction  to  said 
honorable  office,  there  came  to  court  news  of  a  terrible 
duel  fought  down  in  Suffolk,  out  of  which  only  one  of  the 
four  combatants  had  come  alive — two,  rather,  but  one  of 
them  was  in  a  condition  worse  than  death.  The  first  sur 
vivor  was  a  son  of  Sir  William  Brandon,  and  the  second 
was  a  man  called  Sir  Adam  Judson.  The  story  went  that 
young  Brandon  and  his  elder  brother,  both  just  home 
from  the  continental  wars,  had  met  Judson  at  an  Ipswich 
inn,  where  there  had  been  considerable  gambling  among 
them.  Judson  had  won  from  the  brothers  quite  a  large 
sum  of  money  which  they  had  brought  home ;  for,  not 
withstanding  their  youth,  the  elder  being  but  twenty-six 
and  the  younger  about  twenty- four  years  of  age,  they  had 
gained  great  honor  and  considerable  profit  in  the  wars, 
especially  the  younger,  whose  name  was  Charles. 

It  is  a  little  hard  to  fight  for  money  and  then  lose  it  by 
a  single  spot  upon  the  die,  but  such  is  the  fate  of  him  who 
plays,  and  a  philosopher  will  swallow  his  ill  luck  and  take 
to  fighting  for  more.  The  Brandons  could  have  done  this 
easily  enough,  especially  Charles,  who  was  an  offhand 
philosopher,  rather  fond  of  a  good-humored  fight,  had  it 


THE  DUEL  / 

not  been  that  in  the  course  of  play  one  evening  the  secret 
of  Judson's  winning  had  been  disclosed  by  a  discovery 
that  he  cheated.  The  Brandons  waited  until  they  were 
sure,  and  then  trouble  began,  which  resulted  in  a  duel  on 
the  second  morning  following. 

This  Judson  was  a  Scotch  gentleman  of  whom  very  lit 
tle  was  known,  except  that  he  was  counted  the  most 
deadly  and  most  cruel  duelist  of  the  time.  He  was  called 
the  "Walking  Death/'  and  it  is  said  took  pride  in  the  ap 
pellation.  He  claimed  to  have  fought  eighty-seven  duels, 
in  which  he  had  killed  seventy-five  men,  and  it  was  consid 
ered  certain  death  to  meet  him.  I  got  the  story  of  the 
duel  afterwards  from  Brandon  as  I  give  it  here. 

John  was  the  elder  brother,  and  when  the  challenge 
came  was  entitled  to  fight  first ;  a  birthright  out  of  which 
Charles  tried  in  vain  to  talk  him.  The  brothers  told  their 
father,  Sir  William  Brandon,  and  at  the  appointed  time 
father  and  sons  repaired  to  the  place  of  meeting,  where 
they  found  Judson  and  his  two  seconds  ready  for  the  fight. 

Sir  William  was  still  a  vigorous  man,  with  few  equals  in 
sword  play,  and  the  sons,  especially  the  younger,  were 
better  men  and  more  skillful  than  their  father  had  ever 
been,  yet  they  felt  that  this  duel  meant  certain  death,  so 
great  was  Judson's  fame  for  skill  and  cruelty.  Notwith 
standing  they  were  so  handicapped  with  this  feeling  of 
impending  evil,  they  met  their  duty  without  a  tremor; 
for  the  motto  of  their  house  was,  "Malo  Mori  Quam 
Fedrai." 

It  was  a  misty  morning  in  March.  Brandon  has  told  me 
since,  that  when  his  elder  brother  took  his  stand,  it  was  at 
once  manifest  that  he  was  Judson's  superior,  both  in 
strength  and  skill,  but  after  a  few  strokes  the  brother's 
blade  bent  double  and  broke  off  short  at  the  hilt  when  it 


8  WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

should  have  gone  home.  Thereupon,  Judson,  with  a  ma 
lignant  smile  of  triumph,  deliberately  selected  his  oppo 
nent's  heart  and  pierced  it  with  his  sword,  giving  the 
blade  a  twist  as  he  drew  it  out  in  order  to  cut  and  mutilate 
the  more. 

In  an  instant  Sir  William's  doublet  was  off,  and  he  was 
in  his  dead  son's  tracks,  ready  to  avenge  him  or  die.  Again 
the  thrust  which  should  have  killed  broke  the  sword,  and 
the  father  died  as  the  son  had  died. 

After  this,  came  young  Charles,  expecting,  but,  so  great 
was  his  strong  heart,  not  one  whit  fearing,  to  lie  beside  his 
dead  father  and  brother.  He  knew  he  was  the  superior  of 
both  in  strength  and  skill,  and  his  knowledge  of  men  and 
the  Noble  Art  told  him  they  had  each  been  the  superior  of 
Judson ;  but  the  fellow's  hand  seemed  to  be  the  hand  of 
death.  An  opening  came  through  Judson's  unskillful 
play,  which  gave  young  Brandon  an  opportunity  for  a 
thrust  to  kill,  but  his  blade,  like  his  father's  and  broth 
er's,  bent  double  without  penetrating.  Unlike  the  others, 
however,  it  did  not  break,  and  the  thrust  revealed  the 
fact  that  Judson's  skill  as  a  duelist  lay  in  a  shirt  of  mail 
which  it  was  useless  to  try  to  pierce.  Aware  of  this, 
Brandon  knew  that  victory  was  his,  and  that  soon  he 
would  have  avenged  the  murders  that  had  gone  before. 
He  saw  that  his  adversary  was  strong  neither  in  wind  nor 
arm,  and  had  not  the  skill  to  penetrate  his  guard  in  a 
week's  trying,  so  he  determined  to  fight  on  the  defensive 
until  Judson's  strength  should  wane,  and  then  kill  him 
when  and  how  he  chose. 

After  a  time  Judson  began  to  breathe  hard  and  his 
thrusts  to  lack  force. 

"Boy,  I  would  spare  you,"  he  said;  "I  have  killed 
enough  of  your  tribe ;  put  up  your  sword  and  call  it  quits." 


THE  DUEL  9 

Young  Brandon  replied:  "Stand  your  ground,  you 
coward ;  you  will  be  a  dead  man  as  soon  as  you  grow  a 
little  weaker ;  if  you  try  to  run  I  will  thrust  you  through 
the  neck  as  I  would  a  cur.  Listen  how  you  snort.  I  shall 
soon  have  you ;  you  are  almost  gone.  You  would  spare 
me,  would  you?  I  could  preach  a  sermon  or  dance  a 
hornpipe  while  I  am  killing  you.  I  will  not  break  my 
sword  against  your  coat  of  mail,  but  will  wait  until  you 
fall  from  weakness  and  then Fight,  you  bloodhound !" 

Judson  was  pale  from  exhaustion,  and  his  breath  was 
coming  in  gasps  as  he  tried  to  keep  the  merciless  sword 
from  his  throat.  At  last,  by  a  dexterous  twist  of  his  blade, 
Brandon  sent  Judson's  sword  flying  thirty  feet  away.  The 
fellow  started  to  run,  but  turned  and  fell  upon  his  knees  to 
beg  for  life.  Brandon's  reply  was  a  flashing  circle  of 
steel,  and  his  sword  point  cut  lengthwise  through  Judson's 
eyes  and  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  leaving  him  sightless  and 
hideous  for  life.  A  revenge  compared  to  which  death 
would  have  been  merciful. 

The  duel  created  quite  a  sensation  throughout  the  king 
dom,  for  although  little  was  known  as  to  who  Judson  was, 
his  fame  as  a  duelist  was  as  broad  as  the  land.  He  had 
been  at  court  upon  several  occasions,  and,  at  one  time, 
upon  the  king's  birthday,  had  fought  in  the  royal  lists.  So 
the  matter  came  in  for  its  share  of  consideration  by  king 
and  courtiers,  and  young  Brandon  became  a  person  of  in 
terest.  He  became  still  more  so  when  some  gentlemen 
who  had  served  with  him  in  the  continental  wars  told  the 
court  of  his  daring  and  bravery,  and  related  stories  of 
deeds  at  arms  worthy  of  the  best  knight  in  Christendom. 

He  had  an  uncle  at  the  court,  Sir  Thomas  Brandon,  the 
king's  Master  of  Horse,  who  thought  it  a  good  oppor 
tunity  to  put  his  nephew  forward  and  let  him  take  his 


10         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

chance  at  winning  royal  favor.  The  uncle  broached  the 
subject  to  the  king,  with  favorable  issue,  and  Charles 
Brandon,  led  by  the  hand  of  fate,  came  to  London  Court, 
where  that  same  fate  had  in  keeping  for  him  events  such 
as  seldom  fall  to  the  lot  of  man. 


CHAPTER  II 

HOW  BRANDON  CAME  TO  COURT 

When  we  learned  that  Brandon  was  coming  to  court, 
every  one  believed  he  would  soon  gain  the  king's  favor. 
How  much  that  would  amount  to  none  could  tell,  as  the 
king's  favorites  were  of  many  sorts  and  taken  from  all 
conditions  of  men.  There  was  Master  Wolsey,  a  butcher's 
son,  whom  he  had  first  made  almoner,  then  chief  counse 
lor  and  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  soon  to  be  Bishop  of  York,  and 
Cardinal  of  the  Holy  Roman  Church. 

From  the  other  extreme  of  life  came  young  Thomas, 
Lord  Howard,  heir  to  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  and  my  Lord  of 
Buckingham,  premier  peer  of  the  realm.  Then  sometimes 
would  the  king  take  a  yeoman  of  the  guard  and  make  him 
his  companion  in  jousts  and  tournaments,  solely  because  of 
his  brawn  and  bone.  There  were  others  whom  he  kept 
close  by  him  in  the  palace  because  of  their  wit  and  the 
entertainment  they  furnished ;  of  which  class  was  I,  and, 
I  flatter  myself,  no  mean  member. 

To  begin  with,  being  in  no  way  dependent  on  the  king 
for  money,  I  never  drew  a  farthing  from  the  royal  treas- 
_ury.  This,  yon  may  be  sure,  did  me  no  harm,  for  although 
the  king  sometimes  delighted  to  give,  he  always  hated  to 
pay.  There  were  other  good  reasons,  too,  why  I  should 
be  a  favorite  with  the  king.  Without  meaning  to  be  vain, 
I  think  I  may  presume  to  say,  with  perfect  truth,  that  my 
conversation  and  manners  were  far  more  pleasing  and 
polished  than  were  usual  at  that  day  in  England,  for  I 


12        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

made  it  a  point  to  spend  several  weeks  each  year  in  the 
noble  French  capital,  the  home  and  center  of  good-breed 
ing  and  politeness.  <• 

My  appointment  as  Master  of  the  Dance,  I  am  sure,  was 
owing  entirely  to  my  manner.  My  brother,  the  baron, 
who  stood  high  with  the  king,  was  not  friendly  toward  me 
because  my  father  had  seen  fit  to  bequeath  me  so  good  a 
competency  in  place  of  giving  it  all  to  the  first-born  and 
leaving  me  dependent  upon  the  tender  mercies  of  an  elder 
brother.  So  I  had  no  help  from  him  nor  from  any  one 
else.  I  was  quite  small  of  stature — that  is  lengthwise — 
land,  therefore,  unable  to  compete,  with  lance  and  mace, 
with  bulkier  men ;  but  I  would  bet  with  any  man,  of  any 
size,  on  any  game,  at  any  place  and  time,  in  any  amount ; 
and,  if  I  do  say  it,  who  perhaps  should  not,  basked  in  the 
light  of  many  a  fair  smile  which  larger  men  had  sighed  for 
in  vain. 

I  did  not  know  when  Brandon  first  came  to  London. 
We  had  all  remained  at  Greenwich  while  the  king  went 
up  to  Westminster  to  waste  his  time  with  matters  of  state 
and  quarrel  with  the  parliament,  then  sitting,  over  the 
amount  of  certain  subsidies. 

Mary,  the  king's  sister,  then  some  eighteen  or  nineteen 
years  of  age,  a  perfect  bud,  just  blossoming  into  a  perfect 
flower,  had  gone  over  to  Windsor  on  a  visit  to  her  elder 
sister,  Margaret  of  Scotland,  and  the  palace  was  dull 
enough.  Brandon,  it  seems,  had  been  presented  to  Henry 
during  this  time,  at  Westminster,  and  had,  to  some  extent 
at  least,  become  a  favorite  before  I  met  him.  The  first 
time  I  saw  him  was  at  a  joust  given  by  the  king  at  West 
minster,  in  celebration  of  the  fact  that  he  had  coaxed  a 
good  round  subsidy  out  of  parliament. 

The  queen  and  her  ladies  had  bee  i  invited  over,  and  it 


HOW  BRANDON  CAME  TO  COURT  13 

was  known  that  Mary  would  be  down  from  Windsor  and 
come  home  with  the  king  and  the  court  to  Greenwich 
when  we  should  return.  So  we  all  went  over  to  West 
minster  the  night  before  the  jousts,  and  were  up  bright 
and  early  next  morning  to  see  all  that  was  to  be  seen. 

[Here  the  editor  sees  fit  to  substitute  a  description  of 
this  tournament  taken  from  the  quaint  old  chronicler, 
Hall.] 

The  morow  beyng  after  dynner,  at  tyme  conuenenient,  the 
Quene  with  her  Ladyes  repaired  to  see  the  lustes,  the  trom- 
pettes  blewe  vp,  and  in  came  many  a  noble  man  and  Gentlema, 
rychely  appeareiled.  takynge  vp  thir  horses,  after  whome 
folowed  certayne  lordes  appareiled,  they  and  thir  horses,  in 
cloth  of  Golde  and  russet  and  tynsell;  Knyghtes  in  cloth  of 
Golde,  and  russet  Veluet.  And  a  greate  nomber  of  Gentlemen 
on  fote,  in  russet  satyn  and  yealow,  and  yomen  in  russet 
Damaske  and  yealow,  all  the  nether  parte  of  euery  mans  hosen 
Skarlet,  and  yealow  cappes. 

Then  came  the  kynge  vnder  a  Pauilion  of  golde,  and  purpul 
Veluet  embroudered,  the  compass  of  the  Pauilion  about,  and 
valenced  with  a  flat,  gold  beaten  in  wyre,  with  an  Imperiall 
croune  in  the  top,  of  fyne  Golde,  his  bases  and  trapper  of  cloth 
of  Golde,  fretted  with  Damask  Golde,  the  trapper  pedant  to  the 
tail.  A  crane  and  chafron  of  stele,  in  the  front  of  the  chafro 
was  a  goodly  plume  set  full  of  musers  or  trimbling  spangles  of 
golde.  After  folowed  his  three  aydes,  euery  of  them  vnder  a 
Pauilion  of  Crymosyn  Damaske  &  purple.  The  nomber  of 
Gentlemen  and  yomen  a  fote,  appareiled  in  russet  and  yealow 
was  clxviii.  Then  next  these  Pauilions  came  xii  chyldren  of 
honor,  sitting  euery  one  of  them  on  a  greate  courser,  rychely 
trapped,  and  embroudered  in  seuerall  deuises  and  facions,  where 
lacked  neither  brouderie  nor  goldsmythes  work,  so  that  euery 
chyld  and  horse  in  deuice  and  fascion  was  contrary  to  the  other, 
which  was  goodly  to  beholde. 

Then  on  the  counter  parte,  entered  a  Straunger,  fyrst  on  horse- 
backe  in  a  long  robe  of  Russet  satyne,  like  a  recluse  or  a  re- 


14         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

ligious,  and  his  horse  trapped  in  the  same  sewte,  without  dromme 
or  noyse  of  mynstrelsye,  puttinge  a  byll  of  peticion  to  the  Quene, 
the  effect  whereof  was,  that  if  it  would  please  her  to  license  hym 
to  runne  in  her  presence,  he  would  do  it  gladly,  and  if  not,  then 
he  would  departe  as  he  came.  After  his  request  was  graunted, 
then  he  put  off  hys  sayd  habyte  and  was  armed  at  all  peces  with 
ryche  bases  &  horse,  also  rychely  trapped,  and  so  did  runne  his 
horse  to  the  tylte  end,  where  dieurs  men  on  fote  appareiled  in 
Russet  satyn  awaited  on  him.  Thereupon  the  Heraulds  cryed 
an  Oyez!  and  the  grownd  shoke  with  the  trompe  of  rushynge 
stedes.  Wonder  it  were  to  write  of  the  dedes  of  Amies  which 
that  day  toke  place,  where  a  man  might  haue  seen  many  a  horse 
raysed  on  highe  with  galop,  turne  and  stoppe,  maruaylous  to 
behold.  C.xiv  staves  were  broke  and  the  kynge  being  lusty,  he 
and  the  straunger  toke  the  prices. 

When  the  queen  had  given  the  stranger  permission  to 
run,  and  as  he  moved  away,  there  was  a  great  clapping  of 
hands  and  waving  of  trophies  among  the  ladies,  for  he  was 
of  such  noble  mien  and  comely  face  as  to  attract  the  gaze 
of  every  one  away  from  even  the  glittering  person  of  his 
Majesty  the  King. 

His  hair,  worn  in  its  natural  length,  fell  in  brown  curls 
back  from  his  forehead  almost  to  the  shoulder,  a  style  just 
then  new,  even  in  France.  His  eyes  were  a  deep  blue,  and 
his  complexion,  though  browned  by  exposure,  held  a 
tinge  of  beauty  which  the  sun  could  not  mar  and  a  girl 
might  envy.  He  wore  neither  mustachio  nor  beard,  as 
men  now  disfigure  their  faces — since  Francis  I  took  a  scar 
on  his  chin — and  his  clear  cut  profile,  dilating  nostrils  and 
mobile,  though  firm-set  mouth,  gave  pleasing  assurance  of 
tenderness,  gentleness,  daring  and  strength. 

I  was  standing  near  the  queen,  who  called  to  me :  "Who 
is  the  handsome  stranger  that  so  gracefully  asked  our 
license  to  run  ?" 


HOW  BRANDON  CAME  TO  COURT  15 

"I  can  not  inform  your  majesty.  I  never  saw  him  until 
now.  He  is  the  goodliest  knight  I  have  ever  beheld." 

"That  he  is,"  replied  the  queen ;  "and  we  should  like 
very  much  to  know  him.  Should  we  not,  ladies  ?"  There 
was  a  chorus  of  assent  from  a  dozen  voices,  and  I  prom 
ised,  after  the  running,  to  learn  all  about  him  and  report. 

It  was  at  this  point  the  heralds  cried  their  "Oyes,"  and 
our  conversation  was  at  an  end  for  the  time. 

As  to  height,  the  stranger  was  full  six  feet,  with  ample 
evidence  of  muscle,  though  no  great  bulk.  He  was  grace 
itself,  and  the  king  afterwards  said  he  had  never  seen 
such  strength  of  arm  and  skill  in  the  use  of  the  lance — a 
sure  harbinger  of  favor,  if  not  of  fortune,  for  the  posses 
sor. 

After  the  jousting  the  Princess  Mary  asked  me  if  I 
could  yet  give  her  an  account  of  the  stranger;  and  as  I 
could  not,  she  went  to  the  king. 

I  heard  her  inquire : 

''Who  was  your  companion,  brother?" 

"That  is  a  secret,  sister.  You  will  find  out  soon 
enough,  and  will  be  falling  in  love  with  him,  no  doubt.  I 
have  always  looked  upon  you  as  full  of  trouble  for  me  in 
that  line;  you  will  not  so  much  as  glance  at  anyone  I 
choose  for  you,  but  I  suppose  would  be  ready  enough  with 
your  smiles  for  some  one  I  should  not  want." 

"Is  the  stranger  one  whom  you  would  not  want?"  asked 
Mary,  with  a  dimpling  smile  and  a  flash  of  her  brown 
eyes. 

"He  most  certainly  is,"  returned  the  king. 

"Then  I  will  fall  in  love  with  him  at  once.  In  fact,  I 
don't  know  but  I  have  already." 

"Oh,  I  have  no  doubt  of  that;  if  I  wanted  him,  he 
might  be  Apollo  himself  and  you  would  have  none  of 


16        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

him."  King  Henry  had  been  compelled  to  refuse  several 
very  advantageous  alliances  because  this  fair,  coaxing, 
self-willed  sister  would  not  consent  to  be  a  part  of  the 
moving  consideration. 

"But  can  you  not  tell  me  who  he  is,  and  what  his  de 
gree  ?"  went  on  Mary  in  a  bantering  tone. 

"He  has  no  degree;  he  is  a  plain,  untitled  soldier,  not 
even  a  knight ;  that  is,  not  an  English  knight.  I  think  he 
has  a  German  or  Spanish  order  of  some  sort." 

"Not  a  duke;  not  an  earl;  not  even  a  baron  or  knight? 
Now  he  has  become  interesting." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so ;  but  don't  bother  me." 

"Will  he  be  at  the  dance  and  banquet  to-night?" 

"No !  No !  Now  I  must  go ;  don't  bother  me,  I  say." 
And  the  king  moved  away. 

That  night  we  had  a  grand  banquet  and  dance  at  West 
minster,  and  the  next  day  we  all,  excepting  Lady  Mary, 
went  back  to  Greenwich  by  boat,  paying  a  farthing  a  head 
for  our  fare.  This  was  just  after  the  law  fixing  the  boat 
fare,  and  the  watermen  were  a  quarreling  lot,  you  may  be 
sure.  One  farthing  from  Westminster  to  Greenwich! 
Eight  miles.  No  wonder  they  were  angry. 

The  next  day  I  went  back  to  London  on  an  errand,  and 
over  to  Wolsey's  house  to  borrow  a  book.  While  there 
Master  Cavendish,  Wolsey's  secretary,  presented  me  to 
the  handsome  stranger,  and  he  proved  to  be  no  other 
than  Charles  Brandon,  who  had  fought  the  terrible  duel 
down  in  Suffolk.  I  could  hardly  believe  that  so  mild- 
mannered  and  boyish  a  person  could  have  taken  the  lead 
ing  part  in  such  a  tragedy.  But  with  all  his  gentleness 
there  was  an  underlying  dash  of  cool  daring  which  inti 
mated  plainly  enough  that  he  was  not  all  mildness. 

We  became  friends  at  once,  drawn  together  by  that  sub- 


HOW  BRANDON  CAME  TO  COURT  17 

tie  human  quality  which  makes  one  nature  fit  into  another, 
resulting  in  friendship  between  men,  and  love  between 
men  and  women.  We  soon  found  that  we  had  many  tastes 
in  common,  chief  among  which  was  the  strongest  of  all 
congenial  bonds,  the  love  of  books.  In  fact  we  had  come 
to  know  each  other  through  our  common  love  of  reading, 
for  he  also  had  gone  to  Master  Cavendish,  who  had  a  fine 
library,  to  borrow  some  volumes  to  take  with  him  down  to 
Greenwich. 

Brandon  informed  me  he  was  to  go  to  Greenwich  that 
day,  so  we  determined  to  see  a  little  of  London,  which  was 
new  to  him,  and  then  take  boat  in  time  to  be  at  the  palace 
before  dark. 

That  evening,  upon  arriving  at  Greenwich,  we  hunted 
up  Brandon's  uncle,  the  Master  of  Horse,  who  invited  his 
nephew  to  stay  with  him  for  the  night.  He  refused,  how 
ever,  and  accepted  an  invitation  to  take  a  bed  in  my  room. 

The  next  day  Brandon  was  installed  as  one  of  the  cap 
tains  of  the  king's  guard,  under  his  uncle,  but  with  no 
particular  duties,  except  such  as  should  be  assigned  him 
from  time  to  time.  He  was  offered  a  good  room  on  one 
of  the  lower  floors,  but  asked,  instead,  to  be  lodged  in  the 
attic  next  to  me.  So  we  arranged  that  each  had  a  room 
opening  into  a  third  that  served  us  alike  for  drawing- 
room  and  armory. 

Here  we  sat  and  talked,  and  now  and  then  one  would 
read  aloud  some  favorite  passage,  while  the  other  kept  his 
own  place  with  finger  between  the  leaves.  Here  we  dis 
cussed  everything  from  court  scandal  to  religion,  and  set 
tled  to  our  own  satisfaction,  at  least,  many  a  great  problem 
with  which  the  foolish  world  is  still  wrestling. 

We  told  each  other  all  our  secrets,  too,  for  all  the  world 
like  a  pair  of  girls.  Although  Brandon  had  seen  so  much 


18        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

of  life,  having  fought  on  the  continent  ever  since  he  was  a 
boy,  and  for  all  he  was  so  much  a  man  of  the  world,  yet 
had  he  as  fresh  and  boyish  a  heart  as  if  he  had  just  come 
from  the  clover  fields  and  daisies.  He  seemed  almost  dif 
fident,  but  I  soon  learned  that  his  manner  was  but  the  cool 
gentleness  of  strength. 

Of  what  use,  let  me  ask,  is  a  friend  unless  you  can  un 
load  your  heart  upon  him?  It  matters  not  whether  the 
load  be  joy  or  sorrow ;  if  the  former,  the  need  is  all  the 
greater,  for  joy  has  an  expansive  power,  as  some  persons 
claim  steam  has,  and  must  escape  from  the  heart  upon 
some  one  else. 

So  Brandon  told  me  of  his  hopes  and  aspirations,  chief 
among  which  was  his  desire  to  earn,  and  save,  enough 
money  to  pay  the  debt  against  his  father's  estate,  which 
he  had  turned  over  to  his  younger  brother  and  sisters.  He, 
as  the  eldest,  could  have  taken  it  all,  for  his  father  had 
died  without  a  will,  but  he  said  there  was  not  enough  to 
divide,  so  he  had  given  it  to  them  and  hoped  to  leave  it 
clear  of  debt;  then  for  New  Spain,  glory  and  fortune, 
conquest  and  yellow  gold.  He  had  read  of  the  voyage  of 
the  great  Columbus,  the  Cabots,  and  a  host  of  others,  and 
the  future  was  as  rosy  as  a  Cornish  girl's  cheek.  Fortune 
held  up  her  lips  to  him,  but — there's  often  a  sting  in  a 
kiss. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  PRINCESS  MARY 

Now,  at  that  time,  Mar}*,  the  king's  sister,  was  just 
ripening  into  her  greatest  womanly  perfection.  Her  skin 
was  like  velvet ;  a  rich,  clear,  rosy  snow,  with  the  hot 
young  blood  glowing  through  it  like  the  faint  red  tinge  we 
sometimes  see  on  the  inner  side  of  a  white  rose  leaf.  Her 
hair  was  a  very  light  brown,  almost  golden,  and  fluffy, 
soft,  and  fine  as  a  skein  of  Arras  silk.  She  was  of  medium 
height,  with  a  figure  that  Venus  might  have  envied.  Her 
feet  and  hands  were  small,  and  apparently  made  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  driving  mankind  distracted.  In  fact,  that 
seemed  to  be  the  paramount  object  in  her  creation,  for  she 
had  the  world  of  men  at  her  feet.  Her  greatest  beauty 
was  her  glowing  dark  brown  eyes,  which  shone  with  an 
ever-changing  luster  from  beneath  the  shade  of  the  long 
est,  blackest  upcurving  lashes  ever  seen. 

Her  voice  was  soft  and  full,  and,  except  when  angry, 
which,  alas,  was  not  infrequent,  had  a  low  and  coaxing 
little  note  that  made  it  irresistible ;  she  was  a  most  adroit 
coaxer,  and  knew  her  power  full  well,  although  she  did 
not  always  plead,  having  the  Tudor  temper  and  preferring 
to  command — when  she  could.  As  before  hinted,  she  had 
coaxed  her  royal  brother  out  of  several  proposed  mar 
riages  for  her,  which  would  have  been  greatly  to  his  ad 
vantage  ;  and  if  you  had  only  known  Henry  Tudor,  with 
his  vain,  boisterous,  stubborn  violence,  you  could  form 
some  idea  of  Mary's  powers  by  that  achievement  alone. 

Will  Sommers,  the  fool,  one  day  spread  through  court 


20         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

an  announcement  that  there  would  be  a  public  exhibition 
in  the  main  hall  of  the  palace  that  evening,  when  the 
Princess  Mary  would  perform  the  somewhat  alarming, 
but,  in  fact,  harmless,  operation  of  wheedling  the  king 
out  of  his  ears.  This  was  just  after  she  had  coaxed  him 
to  annul  a  marriage  contract  which  her  father  had  made 
for  her  with  Charles  of  Germany,  then  heir  to  the  greatest 
inheritance  that  ever  fell  to  the  lot  of  one  man :  Spain,  the 
Netherlands,  Austria,  and  heaven  only  knows  what  else. 

She  had  been  made  love  to  by  so  many  men,  who  had 
lost  their  senses  in  the  dazzling  rays  of  her  thousand  per 
fections — of  whom,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  that  I,  for  a 
time,  had  been  insane  enough  to  be  one — that  love  had 
grown  to  be  a  sort  of  joke  with  her,  and  man,  a  poor,  con 
temptible  creature,  made  to  grovel  at  her  feet.  Not  that 
she  liked  or  encouraged  it ;  for,  never  having  been  moved 
herself,  she  held  love  and  its  sufferings  in  utter  scorn. 
Man's  love  was  so  cheap  and  plentiful  that  it  had  no  value 
in  her  eyes,  and  it  looked  as  if  she  would  lose  the  best 
thing  in  life  by  having  too  much  of  it. 

Such  was  the  royal  maid  to  whose  tender  mercies,  I 
now  tell  you  frankly,  my  friend  Brandon  was  soon  to  be 
turned  over.  He,  however,  was  a  blade  of  very  different 
temper  from  any  she  had  known;  and  when  I  first  saw 
signs  of  a  growing  intimacy  between  them  I  felt,  from 
what  little  I  had  seen  of  Brandon,  that  the  tables  were 
very  likely  to  be  turned  upon  her  ladyship.  Then  thought 
.  I,  "God  help  her,"  for  in  a  nature  like  hers,  charged  with 
latent  force,  strong  and  hot  and  fiery  as  the  sun's  stored 
rays,  it  needed  but  a  flash  to  make  it  patent,  when  dam- 
•  age  was  sure  to  follow  for  somebody — probably  Brandon. 

Mary  did  not  come  home  with  us  from  Westminster  the 
morning  after  the  joustings,  as  we  had  expected,  but  fol- 


THE  PRINCESS  MARY  21 

lowed  some  four  or  five  days  later,  and  Brandon  had  fairly 
settled  himself  at  court  before  her  arrival.  As  neither  his 
duties  nor  mine  were  onerous,  we  had  a  great  deal  of  time 
on  our  hands,  which  we  employed  walking  and  riding,  or 
sitting  in  our  common  room  reading  and  talking.  Of 
course,  as  with  most  young  men,  that  very  attractive 
branch  of  natural  history,  feminology,  was  a  favorite 
topic,  and  we  accordingly  discussed  it  a  great  deal ;  that  is, 
to  tell  the  exact  truth,  /  did.  Although  Brandon  had 
seen  many  an  adventure  during  his  life  on  the  continent, 
which  would  not  do  to  write  down  here,  he  was  as  little 
of  a  boaster  as  any  man  I  ever  met,  and,  while  I  am  in  the 
truth-telling  business,  I  was  as  great  a  braggart  of  my 
inches  as  ever  drew  the  long-bow — in  that  line,  I  mean. 
Gods !  I  flush  up  hot,  even  now,  when  I  think  of  it.  So 
I  talked  a  great  deal  and  found  myself  infinitely  pleased 
with  Brandon's  conversational  powers,  which  were  rare; 
being  no  less  than  the  capacity  for  saying  nothing,  and 
listening  politely  to  an  infinite  deal  of  the  same  thing, 
in  another  form,  from  me. 

1^  remember  that  I  told  him  I  had  known  the  Princess 
Mary  from  a  time  when  she  was  twelve  years  old,  and 
how  I  had  made  a  fool  of  myself  about  her.  I  fear  I 
tried  to  convey  the  impression  that  it  was  her  exalted 
rank  only  which  made  her  look  unfavorably  upon  my 
passion,  and  suppressed  the  fact  that  she  had  laughed 
at  me  good  humoredly,  and  put  me  off  as  she  would 
have  thrust  a  poodle  from  her  lap.  The  truth  is,  she 
had  always  been  kind  and  courteous  to  me,  and  had  ad 
mitted  me  to  a  degree  of  intimacy  much  greater  than  I 
deserved.  This,  partly  at  least,  grew  out  of  the  fact 
that  I  helped  her  along  the  thorny  path  to 
knowledge;  a  road  she  traveled  at  an  eager  gallop, 


22         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

for  she  dearly  loved  to  learn — from  curiosity  perhaps. 

I  am  sure  she  held  me  in  her  light,  gentle  heart  as  a 
dear  friend,  but  while  her  heart  was  filled  with  this  mild 
warmth  for  me,  mine  began  to  burn  with  the  flame  that 
discolors  everything,  and  I  saw  her  friendliness  in  a  very 
distorting  light.  She  was  much  kinder  to  me  than  to  most 
men,  but  I  did  not  see  that  it  was  by  reason  of  my  abso 
lute  harmlessness ;  and,  I  suppose,  because  I  was  a  vain 
fool,  I  gradually  began  to  gather  hope — which  goes  with 
every  vain  man's  love — and  what  is  more,  actually  climbed 
to  the  very  apex  of  idiocy  and  declared  myself.  I  well 
knew  the  infinite  distance  between  us,  but  like  every 
other  man  who  came  within  the  circle  of  this  charming 
loadstone  I  lost  my  head,-  and,  in  short,  made  a  greater 
fool  of  myself  than  I  naturally  was — which  is  saying  a 
good  deal  for  that  time  in  my  life,  God  knows ! 

I  knew  vaguely  but  did  not  fairly  realize  how  utterly 
beyond  my  reach  in  every  way  she  was  until  I  opened 
the  flood-gates  of  my  passion — as  I  thought  it — and  saw 
her  smile,  and  try  to  check  the  coming  laugh.  Then 
came  a  look  of  offended  dignity,  followed  by  a  quick 
softening  glance. 

"Leave  me  one  friend,  I  pray  you,  Edwin.  I  value 
you  too  highly  to  lose,  and  esteem  you  too  much  to  tor 
ment.  Do  not  make  of  yourself  one  of  those  fools  who 
feel,  or  pretend  to  feel,  I  care  not  which,  such  preference 
for  me.  You  cannot  know  in  what  contempt  a  woman 
holds  a  man  who  follows  her  though  she  despises  him. 
No  man  can  beg  a  woman's  love;  he  must  command  it; 
do  not  join  their  ranks,  but  let  us  be  good  friends.  I 
will  tell  you  the  plain  truth ;  it  would  be  no  different  were 
we  botn  of  the  same  degree;  even  then  I  could  not  feel 
toward  you  as  you  think  you  wish,  but  I  can  be  your 


THE  PRINCESS  MARY  23 

friend,  and  will  promise  to  be  that  always,  if  you  will 
promise  never  again  to  speak  of  this  to  me." 

I  promised  solemnly  and  have  always  kept  my  word, 
as  this  true,  gracious  woman,  so  full  of  faults  and  beau 
ties,  virtues  and  failings,  has,  ever  since  that  day  and  mo 
ment,  kept  hers.  It  seemed  that  my  love,  or  what  I  sup 
posed  was  love,  left  my  heart  at  once,  frozen  in  the  cold 
glint  of  her  eyes  as  she  smiled  upon  my  first  avowal ; 
somewhat  as  disease  may  leave  the  sickened  body  upon 
a  great  shock.  And  in  its  place  came  the  restful  flame  of 
a  friend's  love,  which  so  softly  warms  without  burning. 
But  the  burning!  There  is  nothing  in  life  worth  having 
compared  with  it  for  all  its  pains  and  agonies.  Is  there? 

"Now  if  you  must  love  somebody,"  continued  the  prin 
cess,  "there  is  Lady  Jane  Bolingbroke,  who  is  beautiful 
and  good,  and  admires  you,  and,  I  think,  could  learn  to 

"  but  here  the  lady  in  question  ran  out  from  behind 

the  draperies,  where,  I  believe,  she  had  been  listening  to 
it  all,  and  put  her  hand  over  her  mistress'  mouth  to  silence 
her. 

"Don't  believe  one  word  she  says,  Sir  Edwin,''  cried 
Lady  Jane;  "'if  you  do  I  never  will  like  you."  The 
emphasis  on  the  "will"  held  out  such  involuntary  promise 
in  case  I  did  not  believe  the  princess,  that  I  at  once  pro 
tested  total  want  of  faith  in  a  single  syllable  she  had  said 
about  her,  and  vowed  that  I  knew  it  could  not  be  true ; 
that  I  dared  not  hope  for  such  happiness. 

You  see,  I  had  begun  to  make  love  to  Jane  almost  be 
fore  I  was  oft  my  knees  to  Mary,  and,  therefore,  I  had 
not  been  much  hurt  in  Mary's  case.  I  had  suffered  mere 
ly  a  touch  of  the  general  epidemic,  not  the  lingering, 
chronic  disease  that  kills. 

Then  I  knew  that  the  best  cure  for  the  sting  which 


24         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

lies  in  a  luckless  love  is  to  love  elsewhere,  and  Jane,  as 
she  stood  there,  so  petite,  so  blushing  and  so  fair,  struck 
me  as  quite  the  most  pleasing  antidote  I  could  possibly 
find,  so  I  began  at  once  to  administer  to  myself  the  delight 
ful  counter-irritant.  It  was  a  happy  thought  for  me; 
one  of  those  which  come  to  a  man  now  and  then,  and  for 
which  he  thanks  his  wits  in  every  hour  of  his  after  life. 

But  the  winning  of  Jane  was  not  so  easy  a  matter  as 
my  vanity  had  prompted  me  to  think.  I  started  with  a 
handicap,  since  Jane  had  heard  my  declaration  to  Mary, 
and  I  had  to  undo  all  that  before  I  could  do  anything 
else.  Try  the  same  thing  yourself  with  a  spirited  girl, 
naturally  laughter-loving  and  coy,  if  you  think  it  a  simple, 
easy  undertaking.  I  began  to  fear  I  should  need  another 
antidote  long  before  I  heard  her  sweet  soul-satisfying 
"yes."  I  do  not  believe,  however,  I  could  have  found  in 
the  whole  world  an  antidote  to  my  love  for  Jane.  You 
see  I  tell  you  frankly  that  I  won  her,  and  conceal  nothing, 
so  far  as  Jane  and  I  are  concerned,  for  the  purpose  of 
holding  you  in  suspense.  I  have  started  out  to  tell  you 
the  history  of  two  other  persons — if  I  can  ever  come  to  it 
— but  find  a  continual  tendency  on  the  part  of  my  own 
story  to  intrude,  for  every  man  is  a  very  important  per 
sonage  to  himself.  I  shall,  however,  try  to  keep  it  out. 

In  the  course  of  my  talk  with  Brandon  I  had,  as  I 
have  said,  told  him  the  story  of  Mary,  writh  some  slight 
variations  and  coloring,  or  rather  discoloring,  to  make  it 
appear  a  little  less  to  my  discredit  than  the  barefaced 
truth  would  have  been.  I  told  him  also  about  Jane ; 
and,  I  grieve  and  blush  to  say,  expressed  a  confidence  in 
that  direction  I  little  felt. 

It  had  been  perhaps  a  year  since  my  adventure  with 
Mary,  and  I  had  taken  all  that  time  trying  to  convince 


THE  PRINCESS  MARY  25 

Jane  that  I  did  not  mean  a  word  I  had  said  to  her  mis 
tress,  and  that  I  was  very  earnest  in  everything  I  said 
to  her.  But  Jane's  ears  would  have  heard  just  as  much 
had  they  been  the  pair  of  beautiful  little  shells  they  so 
much  resembled.  This  troubled  me  a  great  deal,  and  the 
best  I  could  hope  was  that  she  held  me  on  probation. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  Mary  came  home  to  Green 
wich,  Brandon  asked:  "Who  and  what  on  earth  is  this 
wonderful  Mary  I  hear  so  much  about  ?  They  say  she  is 
coming  home  to-day,  and  the  court  seems  to  have  gone 
mad  about  it ;  I  hear  nothing  but  ''Mary  is  coming !  Mary 
is  coming !  Mary !  Mary !'  from  morning  until  night. 
They  say  Buckingham  is  beside  himself  for  love  of  her. 
He  has  a  wife  at  home,  if  I  am  right,  and  is  old  enough  to 
be  her  father.  Is  he  not?''  I  assented;  and  Brandon 
continued :  "A  man  who  will  make  such  a  fool  of  him 
self  about  a  woman  is  woefully  weak.  The  men  of  the 
court  must  be  poor  creatures." 

He  had  much  to  learn  about  the  power  of  womanhood. 
There  is  nothing  on  earth — but  you  know  as  much  about  \ 
it  as  I  do. 

"Wait  until  you  see  her/'  I  answered,  "and  you  will 
be  one  of  them,  also.  I  flatter  you  by  giving  you  one 
hour  with  her  to  be  heels  over  head  in  love.  With  an  or 
dinary  man  it  takes  one-sixtieth  of  that  time ;  so  you  see 
I  pay  a  compliment  to  your  strength  of  mind." 

"Nonsense!"  broke  in  Brandon.  "Do  you  think  I 
left  all  my  wits  down  in  Suffolk?  Why,  man,  she  is  the 
sister  of  the  king,  and  is  sought  by  kings  and  emperors.  I 
might  as  well  fall  in  love  with  a  twinkling  star.  Then, 
besides,  my  heart  is  not  on  my  sleeve.  You  must  think 
me  a  fool ;  a  poor,  enervated,  simpering  fool  like — like — 
well,  like  one  of  those  nobles  of  England.  Don't  put  me 


26        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

down  with  them,  Caskoden,  if  you  would  remain  my 
friend." 

We  both  laughed  at  this  sort  of  talk,  which  was  a  little 
in  advance  of  the  time,  for  a  noble,  though  an  idiot,  to  the 
most  of  England  was  a  noble  still,  God-created  and  to  be 
adored. 

Another  great  bond  of  sympathy  between  Brandon  and 
myself  was  a  community  of  opinion  concerning  certain 
theories  as  to  the  equality  of  men  and  tolerance  of  relig 
ious  thought.  We  believed  that  these  things  would  yet 
come,  in  spite  of  kingcraft  and  priestcraft,  but  wisely 
kept  our  pet  theories  to  ourselves;  that  is,  between  our 
selves. 

Of  what  use  is  it  to  argue  the  equality  of  human  kind 
to  a  man  who  honestly  thinks  he  is  better  than  any  one 
else,  or  to  one  who  really  believes  that  some  one  else  is 
better  than  he ;  and  why  dispute  about  the  various  ways  of 
saving  one's  soul,  when  you  are  not  even  sure  you  have 
a  soul  to  save  ?  When  I  open  my  mouth  for  public  utter 
ance,  the  king  is  the  best  man  in  Christendom,  and  his 
premier  peer  of  the  realm  the  next  best.  When  the  king 
is  a  Catholic  I  go  to  Mass;  since,  praised  be  the  Lord, 
I  have  brains  enough  not  to  let  my  head  interfere  with 
\  the  set  ways  of  a  stone  wall. 

Now,  when  Mary  returned  the  whole  court  rejoiced, 
and  I  was  anxious  for  Brandon  to  meet  her  and  that  they 
should  become  friends.  There  would  be  no  trouble  in 
bringing  this  meeting  about,  since,  as  you  know,  I  was 
upon  terms  of  intimate  friendship  with  Mary,  and  was 
the  avowed,  and,  as  I  thought,  at  least  hoped,  all  but  ac 
cepted  lover  of  her  first  lady  in  waiting  and  dearest  friend, 
Lady  Jane  Bolingbroke.  Brandon,  it  is  true,  was  not 
noble;  not  even  an  English  knight,  while  I  was  both 


THE  PRINCESS  MARY  27 

knighted  and  noble;  but  he  was  of  as  old  a  family  as 
England  boasted,  and  near  of  kin  to  some  of  the  best  blood 
of  the  land.  The  meeting  came  about  sooner  than  I  ex 
pected,  and  was  very  near  a  failure.  It  was  on  the  second 
morning  after  Mary's  arrival  at  Greenwich.  Brandon 
and  I  were  walking  in  the  palace  park  when  we  met  Jane, 
and  I  took  the  opportunity  to  make  these,  my  two  best- 
loved  friends,  acquainted. 

"How  do  you  do,  Master  Brandon?"  said  Lady  Jane, 
holding  out  her  plump  little  hand,  so  white  and  soft,  and 
dear  to  me.  "I  have  heard  something  of  you  the  last  day 
or  so  from  Sir  Edwin,  but  had  begun  to  fear  he  was  not 
going  to  give  me  the  pleasure  of  knowing  you.  I  hope  I 
may  see  you  often  now,  and  that  I  may  present  you  to  my 
mistress." 

With  this,  her  eyes,  bright  as  overgrown  dewdrops, 
twinkled  with  a  mischievous  little  smile,  as  if  to  say : 
"Ah,  another  large  handsome  fellow  to  make  a  fool  of 
himself." 

Brandon  acquiesced  in  the  wish  she  had  made,  and, 
after  the  interchange  of  a  few  words,  Jane  said  her  mis 
tress  was  waiting  at  the  other  side  of  the  grounds,  and 
that  she  must  go.  She  then  ran  off  with  a  laugh  and  a 
courtesy,  and  was  soon  lost  to  sight  behind  the  shrubbery 
at  the  turning  of  the  walk. 

In  a  short  time  we  came  to  a  summer  house  near  the 
marble  boat-landing,  where  we  found  the  queen  and  some 
of  her  ladies  awaiting  the  rest  of  their  party  for  a  trip 
down  the  river,  which  had  been  planned  the  day  before. 
Brandon  was  known  to  the  queen  and  several  of  the 
ladies,  although  he  had  not  been  formally  presented  at 
an  audience.  Many  of  the  king's  friends  enjoyed  a  con 
siderable  intimacy  with  the  whole  court  without  ever  re- 


28         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

ceiving  the  public  stamp  of  recognition,  socially,  which 
goes  with  a  formal  presentation. 

The  queen,  seeing  us,  sent  me  off  to  bring  the  king. 
After  I  had  gone,  she  asked  if  any  one  had  seen  the  Prin 
cess  Mary,  and  Brandon  told  her  Lady  Jane  had  said  she 
was  at  the  other  side  of  the  grounds.  Thereupon  her 
majesty  asked  Brandon  to  find  the  princess  and  to  say  that 
she  was  wanted. 

Brandon  started  off  and  soon  found  a  bevy  of  girls  sit 
ting  on  some  benches  under  a  spreading  oak,  weaving 
spring  flowers.  He  had  never  seen  the  princess,  so  could 
not  positi/ely  know  her.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  did 
know  her,  as  soon  as  his  eyes  rested  on  her,  for  she  could 
not  be  mistaken  among  a  thousand — there  was  no  one 
like  her  or  anything  near  it.  Some  stubborn  spirit  of  op 
position,  however,  prompted  him  to  pretend  ignorance. 
All  that  he  had  heard  of  her  wonderful  power  over  men, 
and  the  servile  manner  in  which  they  fell  before  her,  had 
aroused  in  him  a  spirit  of  antagonism,  and  had  begotten 
a  kind  of  distaste  beforehand.  He  was  wrong  in  this, 
because  Mary  was  not  a  coquette  in  any  sense  of  the 
word,  and  did  absolutely  nothing  to  attract  men,  except  to 
be  so  beautiful,  sweet  and  winning  that  they  could  not  let 
her  alone ;  for  all  of  which  surely  the  prince  of  fault-find 
ers  himself  could  in  no  way  blame  her. 

She  could  not  help  it  that  God  had  seen  fit  to  make  her 
the  fairest  being  on  earth,  and  the  responsibility  \vould 
have  to  lie  where  it  belonged — with  God;  Mary  would 
have  none  of  it.  Her  attractiveness  was  not  a  matter  of 
volition  or  intention  on  her  part.  She  was  too  young  for 
deliberate  snare-setting — though  it  often  begins  very 
early  in  life — and  made  no  effort  to  attract  men.  Man's 
love  was  too  cheap  a  thing  for  her  to  strive  for,  and  I  am 


"HAVE  I  THE  HONOR  TO 
FIND  THE  PRINCESS?" 


THE  PRINCESS  MARY  29 

sure,  in  her  heart,  she  would  infinitely  have  preferred  to 

live  without  it — that  is,  until  the  right  one  should  come. 
The  right  one  is  always  on  his  way,  and,  first  or  last,  is 
sure  to  come  to  every  woman — sometimes,  alas !  too  late — 
and  when  he  comes,  be  it  late  or  early,  she  crowns  him, 
even  though  he  be  a  long-eared  ass.  Blessed  crown !  and 
thrice-blessed  blindness — else  there  were  fewer  corona 
tions. 

So  Brandon  stirred  this  antagonism  and  determined  not 
to  see  her  manifold  perfections,  which  he  felt  sure  were 
exaggerated;  but  to  treat  her  as  he  would  the  queen — 
who  was  black  and  leathery  enough  to  frighten  a  satyr — 
with  all  respect  due  to  her  rank,  but  with  his  own  opinion 
of  her  nevertheless,  safely  stored  away  in  the  back  of  his 
head. 

Coming  up  to  the  group  Brandon  took  off  his  hat,  and, 
with  a  graceful  little  bow  that  let  the  curls  fall  around  his 
face,  asked:  "Have  I  the  honor  to  find  the  Princess 
Mary  among  these  ladies?" 

Alan-,  whom  I  know  you  will  at  once  say  was  thor 
oughly  spoiled,  without  turning  her  face  toward  him,  re 
plied  : 

"Is  the  Princess  Mary  a  person  of  so  little  consequence 
about  the  court  that  she  is  not  known  to  a  mighty  captain 
of  the  guard?" 

He  wore  his  guardsman's  doublet,  and  she  knew  his 
rank  by  his  uniform.  She  had  not  noticed  his  face. 

Quick  as  a  flash  came  the  answer :  "I  can  not  say  of 
what  consequence  the  Princess  Mary  is  about  the  court ; 
it  is  not  my  place  to  determine  such  matters.  I  am  sure, 
however,  she  is  not  here,  for  I  doubt  not  she  would  have 
given  a  gentle  answer  to  a  message  from  the  queen.  I 
shall  continue  my  search."  LWith  this,  he  turned  to  leave, 


30         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

and  the  ladies,  including  Jane,  who  was  there  and  saw  it 
all  and  told  me  of  it,  awaited  the  bolt  they  knew  would 
come,  for  they  saw  the  lightning  gathering  in  Mary's 
eyes. 

Mary  sprang  to  her  feet  with  an  angry  flush  in  her  face, 
exclaiming,  "Insolent  fellow,  I  am  the  Princess  Mary;  if 
you  have  a  message,  deliver  it  and  be  gone."  You  may 
be  sure  this  sort  of  treatment  was  such  as  the  cool-headed, 
daring  Brandon  would  repay  with  usury ;  so,  turning  upon 
his  heel,  and  almost  presenting  his  back  to  Mary,  he  spoke 
to  Lady  Jane : 

"Will  your  ladyship  say  to  her  highness  that  her  maj 
esty,  the  queen,  awaits  her  coming  at  the  marble  land- 
ing?" 

"No  need  to  repeat  the  message,  Jane,"  cried  Mary ; 
"I  have  ears  and  can  hear  for  myself."  Then  turning  to 
Brandon:  "If  your  insolence  will  permit  you  to  receive 
a  message  from  so  insignificant  a  person  as  the  king's 
sister,  I  beg  you  to  say  to  the  queen  that  I  shall  be  with 
her  presently." 

He  did  not  turn  his  face  toward  Mary,  but  bowed  again 
to  Jane. 

"May  I  ask  your  ladyship  further  to  say  for  me  that  if 
I  have  been  guilty  of  any  discourtesy  I  greatly  regret  it. 
My  failure  to  recognize  the  Princess  Mary  grew  out  of 
my  misfortune  in  never  having  been  allowed  to  bask  in 
the  light  of  her  countenance.  I  can  not  believe  the  fault 
lies  at  my  door,  and  hope  for  her  own  sake  that  her 
highness,  upon  second  thought,  will  realize  how  ungentle 
and  unkind  some  one  else  has  been."  And  with  a  sweep 
ing  courtesy  he  walked  quickly  down  the  path. 

"The  insolent  wretch  I"  cried  one. 

"He  ought  to  hold  papers  on  the  pillory,"  said  another. 


THE  PRINCESS  MARY  31 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,"  broke  in  sensible,  fearless,  little 
Jane;  "I  think  the  Lady  Mary  was  wrong.  He  could  not 
have  known  her  by  inspiration." 

"Jane  is  right/'  exclaimed  Mary,  whose  temper,  if  short, 
was  also  short-lived,  and  whose  kindly  heart  always  set 
her  right  if  she  but  gave  it  a  little  time.  Her  faults  were 
rather  those  of  education  than  of  nature.  ''Jane  is  right ; 
it  was  what  I  deserved.  I  did  not  think  when  I  spoke, 
and  did  not  really  mean  it  as  it  sounded.  He  acted  like 
a  man,  and  looked  like  one,  too,  when  he  defended  him 
self.  I  warrant  the  pope  at  Rome  could  not  run  over  him 
with  impunity.  For  once  I  have  found  a  real  live  man, 
full  of  manliness.  I  saw  him  in  the  lists  at  Windsor  a 
week  ago,  but  the  king  said  his  name  was  a  secret,  and  I 
could  not  learn  it.  He  seemed  to  know  you,  Jane.  Who 
is  he  ?  Now  tell  us  all  you  know.  The  queen  can  wait." 

And  her  majesty  waited  on  a  girl's  curiosity. 

I  had  told  Jane  all  I  knew  about  Brandon,  so  she  was 
prepared,  with  full  information,  and  gave  it.  She  told 
the  princess  who  he  was  ;  of  his  terrible  duel  with  Judson ; 
his  bravery  and  adventures  in  the  wars ;  his  generous  gift 
to  his  brother  and  sisters,  and  lastly,  "Sir  Edwin  says  he 
is  the  best-read  man  in  the  court,  and  the  bravest,  truest 
heart  in  Christendom." 

After  Jane's  account  of  Brandon,  they  all  started  by 
a  roundabout  way  for  the  marble  landing.  In  a  few  mo 
ments  whom  did  they  see,  coming  toward  them  down  the 
path,  but  Brandon,  who  had  delivered  his  message  and 
continued  his  walk.  When  he  saw  whom  he  was  about  to 
meet,  he  quietly  turned  in  another  direction.  The  Lady 
Mary  had  seen  him,  however,  and  told  Jane  to  run  for 
ward  and  bring  him  to  her.  She  soon  overtook  him  and 
said: 


32         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

"Master  Brandon,  the  princess  wishes  to  see  you." 
Then,  maliciously,  "You  will  suffer  this  time.  I  assure 
you  she  is  not  used  to  such  treatment.  It  was  glorious, 
though,  to  see  you  resent  such  an  affront.  Men  usually 
smirk  and  smile  foolishly  and  thank  her  when  she  smites 
them." 

Brandon  was  disinclined  to  return. 

"I  am  not  in  her  highness's  command,"  he  answered, 
"and  do  not  care  to  go  back  for  a  reprimand  when  I  am  in 
no  way  to  blame." 

"Oh,  but  you  must  come;  perhaps  she  will  not  scold 
this  time,"  and  she  put  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  and  laugh 
ingly  drew  him  along.  Brandon,  of  course,  had  to  sub 
mit  when  led  by  so  sweet  a  captor — anybody  would.  So 
fresh,  and  fair,  and  lovable  was  Jane,  that  I  am  sure  any 
thing  masculine  must  have  given  way. 

Coming  up  to  the  princess  and  her  ladies,  who  were 
waiting,  Jane  said,  "Lady  Mary,  let  me  present  Master 
Brandon,  who,  if  he  has  offended  in  any  way,  humbly  sues 
for  pardon."  That  was  the  one  thing  Brandon  had  no 
notion  on  earth  of  doing,  but  he  let  it  go  as  Jane  had  put 
it,  and  this  was  his  reward : 

"It  is  not  Master  Brandon  who  should  sue  for  pardon," 
responded  the  princess,  "it  is  I  who  was  wrong.  I  blush 
for  what  I  did  and  said.  Forgive  me,  sir,  and  let  us  start 
anew."  At  this  she  stepped  up  to  Brandon  and  offered 
him  her  hand,  which  he,  dropping  to  his  knee,  kissed 
most  gallantly. 

"Your  highness,  you  can  well  afford  to  offend  when  you 
have  so  sweet  and  gracious  a  talent  for  making  amends ; 
'A  wrong  acknowledged/  as  some  one  has  said,  'becomes 
an  obligation/  ):  He  looked  straight  into  the  girl's  eyes 
as  he  said  this,  and  his  gaze  was  altogether  too  strong  for 


THE  PRINCESS  MARY  33 

her,  so  the  lashes  fell.  She  flushed  and  said  with  a  smile 
that  brought  the  dimples : 

"I  thank  you ;  that  is  a  real  compliment."  Then  laugh 
ingly  :  "Much  better  than  extravagant  comments  on  one's 
skin,  and  eyes,  and  hair.  We  are  going  to  the  queen  at 
the  marble  landing;  will  you  walk  with  us,  sir?"  And 
they  strolled  away  together,  while  the  other  girls  followed 
in  a  whispering,  laughing  group. 

Was  there  ever  so  glorious  a  calm  after  such  a  storm  ? 

"Then  those  mythological  compliments,"  continued 
Mary,  "don't  you  dislike  them  ?" 

"I  can't  say  that  I  have  ever  received  many — none  that 
I  recall,"  replied  Brandon,  with  a  perfectly  straight  face, 
but  with  a  smile  trying  its  best  to  break  out. 

"Oh !  you  have  not  ?  Well !  how  would  you  like  to 
have  somebody  always  telling  you  that  Apollo  was  hump 
backed  and  misshapen  compared  with  you  ;  that  Endymion 
would  have  covered  his  face  had  he  but  seen  yours,  and 
so  on?" 

"I  don't  know,  but  I  think  I  should  like  it — from  some 
persons,"  he  replied,  looking  ever  so  innocent. 

This  savored  of  familiarity  after  so  brief  an  acquaint 
ance,  and  caused  the  princess  to  glance  up  in  slight  sur 
prise  ;  but  only  for  the  instant,  for  his  innocent  look  dis 
armed  her. 

"I  have  a  mind  to  see,"  she  returned,  laughing  and 
throwing  her  head  back,  as  she  looked  up  at  him  out  of 
the  corner  of  her  lustrous  eyes.  "But  I  will  pay  you  a 
better  compliment.  I  positively  thank  you  for  the  re 
buke.  I  do  many  things  like  that,  for  which  I  am  always 
sorry.  Oh !  you  don't  know  how  difficult  it  is  to  be  a 
good  princess."  And  she  shook  her  head,  with  a  gather 
ing  of  little  troubled-wrinkles  in  her  forehead,  as  much 
3 


34         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

as  to  say,  "There  is  no  getting  away  from  it,  though." 
Then  she  breathed  a  soft  little  sigh  of  tribulation  as  they 
walked  on. 

"I  know  it  must  be  a  task  to  be  good  when  everybody 
flatters  even  one's  shortcomings,"  said  Brandon,  and  then 
continued  in  a  way  that,  I  am  free  to  confess,  was  some 
thing  priggish.  "It  is  almost  impossible  for  us  to  see  our 
own  faults,  even  when  others  are  kind  enough  to  point 
them  out,  for  they  are  right  ugly  things  and  unpleasant 
to  look  upon.  But  lacking  those  outside  monitors,  one 
must  all  the  more  cultivate  the  habit  of  constant  inlooking 
and  self-examination.  If  we  are  only  brave  enough  to 
confront  our  faults  and  look  them  in  the  face,  ugly  as 
they  are,  we  shall  be  sure  to  overcome  the  worst  of  them. 
A  striving  toward  good  will  achieve  at  least  a  part  of  it." 

"Oh !"  returned  the  princess,  "but  what  is  good  and 
what  is  wrong?  So  often  we  can  not  tell  them  apart  un 
til  we  look  back  at  what  we  have  done,  and  then  it  is  all 
too  late.  I  truly  wish  to  be  good  more  than  I  desire  any 
thing  else  in  the  world.  I  am  so  ignorant  and  helpless, 
and  have  such  strong  inclinations  to  do  wrong  that  some 
times  I  seem  to  be  almost  all  wrong.  The  priests  say  so 
much,  but  tell  us  so  little.  They  talk  about  St.  Peter  and 
St.  Paul,  and  a  host  of  other  saints  and  holy  fathers  and 
what  nots,  but  fail  to  tell  us  what  we  need  every  moment 
of  our  lives ;  that  is,  how  to  know  the  right  when  we  see 
it,  and  how  to  do  it ;  and  how  to  knowT  the  wrong  and  how 
avoid  it.  They  ask  us  to  believe  so  much,  and  insist  that 
faith  is  the  sum  of  virtue,  and  the  lack  of  it  the  sum  of 
sin ;  that  to  faith  all  things  are  added ;  but  we  might  be 
lieve  every  syllable  of  their  whole  disturbing  creed,  and 
then  spoil  it  all  through  blind  ignorance  of  what  is  right 
and  what  is  wrong." 


THE  PRINCESS  MARY  35 

"As  to  knowing  right  and  wrong,"  replied  Brandon,  "I 
think  I  can  give  you  a  rule  which,  although  it  may  not 
cover  the  whole  ground,  is  excellent  for  every-day  use.  It 
is  this :  Whatever  makes  others  unhappy  is  wrong ;  what 
ever  makes  the  world  happier  is  good.  As  to  how  wre 
are  always  to  do  this,  I  can  not  tell  you.  One  has  to 
learn  that  by  trying.  We  can  but  try,  and  if  we  fail  alto 
gether,  there  is  still  virtue  in  even  futile  effort  toward  the 
right." 

Alary  bent  her  head  as  she  walked  along  in  thought. 

"What  you  have  said  is  the  only  approach  to  a  rule  for 
knowing  and  doing  the  right,  I  have  ever  heard.  (Xow 
what  do  you  think  of  me  as  a  flatterer?)  But  it  will  do 
no  good ;  the  bad  is  in  me  too  strong ;  it  always  does  itself 
before  I  can  apply  any  rule,  or  even  realize  what  is  com 
ing."  And  again  she  shook  her  head  with  a  bewitching 
little  look  of  trouble. 

"Pardon  me,  your  highness ;  but  there  is  no  bad  in  you. 
It  has  been  put  on  you  by  others,  and  is  all  on  the  outside  ; 
there  is  none  of  it  in  your  heart  at  all.  That  evil  which 
you  think  comes  out  of  you,  simply  falls  off  you ;  your 
heart  is  all  right,  or  I  have  greatly  misjudged  you."  He 
was  treating  her  almost  as  if  she  were  a  child. 

"I  fear,  blaster  Brandon,  you  are  the  most  adroit  flat 
terer  of  all,"  said  Mary,  shaking  her  head  and  looking  up 
at  him  with  a  side  glance,  "people  have  deluged  me  with 
all  kinds  of  flattery — I  have  the  different  sorts  listed  and 
labeled — but  no  one  has  ever  gone  to  the  extravagant 
length  of  calling  me  good.  Perhaps  they  think  I  do  not 
care  for  that;  but  I  like  it  best.  I  don't  like  the  others 
at  all.  If  I  am  beautiful  or  not,  it  is  as  God  made  me, 
and  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  desire  no  credit, 
but  if  I  could  only  be  good  it  might  be  my  own  doing, 


36        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

perhaps,  and  I  ought  to  have  praise.  I  wonder  if  there 
is  really  and  truly  any  good  in  me,  and  if  you  have  read 
me  aright."  Then  looking  up  at  him  with  a  touch  of 
consternation :  "Or  are  you  laughing  at  me?" 

Brandon  wisely  let  the  last  suggestion  pass  unnoticed. 

"I  am  sure  that  I  am  right ;  you  have  glorious  capacities 

for  good,  but  alas !  corresponding  possibilities  for  evil. 

It  will  eventually  all  depend  upon  the  man  you  marry. 

'  He  can  make  out  of  you  a  perfect  woman,  or  the  re- 

\  verse."       Again  there  was  the  surprised  expression  in 

Mary's  face,  but  Brandon's  serious  look  disarmed  her. 

"I  fear  you  are  right,  as  to  the  reverse,  at  any  rate ; 
and  the  worst  of  it  is,  I  shall  never  be  able  to  choose  a 
man  to  help  me,  but  shall  sooner  or  later  be  compelled  to 
marry  the  creature  who  will  pay  the  greatest  price." 

"God  forbid !"  said  Brandon  reverently. 

They  were  growing  rather  serious,  so  Mary  turned  the 
conversation  again  into  the  laughing  mood,  and  said,  with 
a  half  sigh :  "Oh !  I  hope  you  are  right  about  the  pos 
sibilities  for  good,  but  you  do  not  know.  Wait  until  you 
have  seen  more  of  me." 

"I  certainly  hope  I  shall  not  have  long  to  wait." 

The  surprised  eyes  again  glanced  quickly  up  to  the  se 
rious  face,  but  the  answer  came :  "That  you  shall  not ; — 
but  here  is  the  queen,  and  I  suppose  we  must  have  the 
benediction."  Brandon  understood  her  hint — that  the 
preaching  was  over, — and  taking  it  for  his  dismissal,  play 
fully  lifted  his  hands  in  imitation  of  the  old  Bishop  of 
Canterbury,  and  murmured  the  first  line  of  the  Latin  bene 
diction.  Then  they  both  laughed  and  courtesied,  and 
Brandon  walked  away. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  LESSON  IN  DANCING 

I  laughed  heartily  when  Jane  told  me  of  the  tilt  be 
tween  Brandon  and  Princess  Mary,  the  latter  of  whom 
was  in  the  habit  of  saying  unkind  things  and  being 
thanked  for  them. 

Brandon  was  the  wrong  man  to  say  them  to,  as  Mary 
learned.  He  was  not  hot-tempered;  in  fact,  just  the  re 
verse,  but  he  was  the  last  man  to  brook  an  affront,  and 
the  quickest  to  resent,  in  a  cool-headed,  dangerous  way,  an 
intentional  offense. 

He  respected  himself  and  made  others  do  the  same,  or 
seem  to  do  so,  at  least.  He  had  no  vanity — which  is  but 
an  inordinate  desire  for  those  qualities  that  bring  self-re 
spect,  and  often  the  result  of  conscious  demerit — but  he 
knew  himself,  and  knew  that  he  was  entitled  to  his  own 
good  opinion.  He  was  every  inch  a  man,  strong,  intelli 
gent  and  brave  to  temerity,  with  a  reckless  disregard  of 
consequences,  which  might  have  been  dangerous  had  it  not 
been  tempered  by  a  dash  of  prudence  and  caution  that 
gave  him  ballast. 

I  was  not  surprised  when  I  heard  of  the  encounter ;  for 
I  knew  enough  of  him  to  be  sure  that  Mary's  high-handed 
ness  would  meet  its  counterpart  in  my  cool  friend  Bran 
don.  It  was,  however,  an  unfortunate  victory,  and  what 
all  Mary's  beauty  and  brightness  would  have  failed  to  do, 
her  honest,  open  acknowledgment  of  wrong,  following 
so  quickly  upon  the  heels  of  her  fault,  accomplished 

(37) 


38         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

.  easily.  It  drew  him  within  the  circle  of  her  fatal  attrac 
tions,  and  when  Jane  told  me  of  it,  I  knew  his  fate  was 
sealed,  and  that,  sooner  or  later,  his  untouched  heart  and 
cool  head  would  fall  victim  to  the  shafts  that  so  surely 
winged  all  others. 

It  might,  and  probably  would  be,  "later,"  since,  as  Bran 
don  had  said,  he  was  not  one  of  those  who  wore  his 
heart  upon  his  sleeve.  Then  he  had  that  strong  vein  of 
prudence  and  caution,  which,  in  view  of  Mary's  unat- 
tainableness,  would  probably  come  to  his  help.  But 
never  was  man's  heart  strong  enough  to  resist  Mary 
Tudor's  smile  for  long. 

There  was  this  difference  between  Brandon  and  most 
others;  he  would  be  slow  to  love,  but  when  love  should 
once  fairly  take  root  in  his  intense  nature,  he  would  not 
do  to  trifle  with. 

The  night  after  the  meeting,  Mary  cuddled  up  to  Jane, 
who  slept  with  her,  and  whispered,  half  bashfully: 

"Tell  me  all  about  Brandon ;  I  am  interested  in  him.  I 
believe  if  I  knew  more  persons  like  him  I  should  be  a  bet 
ter  girl,  notwithstanding  he  is  one  of  the  boldest  men  I 
ever  knew.  He  says  anything  he  wishes,  and,  with  all  his 
modest  manner,  is  as  cool  with  me  as  if  I  were  a  burgher's 
daughter.  His  modesty  is  all  on  the  outside,  but  it  is 
pretty,  and  pretty  things  must  be  on  the  outside  to  be 
useful.  I  wonder  if  Judson  thought  him  modest?" 

Jane  talked  of  Brandon  to  Mary,  who  was  in  an  excel 
lent  humor,  until  the  girls  fell  asleep. 

When  Jane  told  me  of  this  I  became  frightened ;  for  the 
surest  way  to  any  woman's  heart  is  to  convince  her  that 
you  make  her  better,  and  arouse  in  her  breast  purer  im 
pulses  and  higher  aspirations.  It  would  be  bad  enough 
should  Brandon  fall  in  love  with  the  princess,  which  was 


A  LESSON  IN  DANCING  39 

almost  sure  to  happen,  but  for  them  to  fall  in  love 
with  each  other  meant  Brandon's  head  upon  the  block, 
and  Mary's  heart  bruised,  broken  and  empty  for  life. 
Her  strong  nature,  filled  to  the  brim  with  latent  passion, 
was  the  stuff  of  which  love  makes  a  conflagration  that 
burns  to  destruction ;  and  should  she  learn  to  love  Bran 
don,  she  would  move  heaven  and  earth  to  possess  him. 

She  whose  every  desire  from  childhood  up  had  been 
gratified,  whose  every  whim  seemed  to  her  a  paramount 
necessity,  would  stop  at  nothing  when  the  dearest  wish  a 
woman's  heart  can  coin  was  to  be  gained  or  lost.  Bran 
don's  element  of  prudence  might  help  him,  and  might 
forestall  any  effort  on  his  part  to  win  her,  but  Mary  had 
never  heard  of  prudence,  and  man's  caution  avails  but  lit 
tle  when  set  against  woman's  daring.  In  case  they  both 
should  love,  they  were  sure  to  try  for  each  other,  and  in 
trying  were  equally  sure  to  find  ruin  and  desolation. 

A  few  evenings  after  this  I  met  the  princess  in  the 
queen's  drawing-room.  She  beckoned  me  to  her,  and 
resting  her  elbows  on  the  top  of  a  cabinet,  her  chin  in  her 
hands,  said :  "I  met  your  friend,  Captain  Brandon,  a  day 
or  two  ago.  Did  he  tell  you?" 

"No,"  I  answered ;  "Jane  told  me,  but  he  has  not  men 
tioned  it." 

It  was  true  Brandon  had  not  said  a  word  of  the  mat 
ter,  and  I  had  not  spoken  of  it,  either.  I  wanted  to  see 
how  long  he  would  remain  silent  concerning  an  adven 
ture  that  would  have  set  most  men  of  the  court  boasting 
away  at  a  great  rate.  To  have  a  tilt  with  the  ever-vic 
torious  Mary,  and  to  come  off  victor,  was  enough,  I  think, 
to  loosen  any  tongue  less  given  to  bragging  than  Bran 
don's. 

''So,"    continued    Mary,    evidently    somewhat    piqued2 


40         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

"he  did  not  think  his  presentation  to  me  a  thing  worth 
mentioning?  We  had  a  little  passage-at-arms,  and,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  came  off  second  best,  and  had  to 
acknowledge  it,  too.  Now  what  do  you  think  of  this  new- 
friend  of  yours  ?  And  he  did  not  boast  about  having  the 
better  of  me  ?  After  all  there  is  more  virtue  in  his  silence 
than  I  at  first  thought."  And  she  threw  back  her  head, 
and  clapped  her  hands  and  laughed  with  the  most  conta 
gious  little  ripple  you  ever  heard.  She  seemed  not  to 
grieve  over  her  defeat,  but  dimpled  as  though  it  were  a 
huge  joke,  the  thought  of  which  rather  pleased  her  than 
otherwise.  Victory  had  grown  stale  for  her,  although  so 
young. 

"What  do  I  think  of  my  new  friend  ?"  I  repeated  after 
her;  and  that  gave  me  a  theme  upon  which  I  could  en 
large  eloquently.  I  told  her  of  his  learning,  notwithstand 
ing  the  fact  that  he  had  been  in  the  continental  wars  ever 
since  he  was  a  boy.  I  repeated  to  her  stories  of  his  dar 
ing  and  bravery,  that  had  been  told  to  me  by  his  uncle, 
the  Master  of  the  Horse,  and  others,  and  then  I  added 
what  I  knew  Lady  Jane  had  already  said.  I  had  expected 
to  be  brief,  but  to  my  surprise  found  a  close  and  interested 
listener,  even  to  the  twice-told  parts,  and  drew  my  story 
out  a  little,  to  the  liking  of  us  both. 

"Your  friend  has  an  earnest  advocate  in  you,  Sir  Ed 
win,"  said  the  princess. 

"That  he  has,"  I  replied.  "There  is  nothing  too  good 
to  say  of  him." 

I  knew  that  Mary,  with  her  better,  clearer  brain,  held 
the  king  almost  in  the  palm  of  her  hand,  so  I  thought  to 
advance  Brandon's  fortune  by  a  timely  word. 

"I  trust  the  king  will  see  fit  to  favor  him,  and  hope 


A  LESSON  IN  DANCING  41 

that  you  will  speak  a  word  in  his  behalf  should  the  op 
portunity  occur." 

"What  in  the  name  of  heaven  have  we  to  give  him?" 
cried  Mary,  impatiently,  for  she  kept  an  eye  on  things 
political,  even  if  she  were  only  a  girl — "the  king  has 
given  away  everything  that  can  be  given,  already,  and 
now  that  the  war  is  over,  and  men  are  coming  home, 
there  are  hundreds  waiting  for  more.  My  father's  great 
treasure  is  squandered,  to  say  nothing  of  the  money  col 
lected  from  Empson,  Dudley  and  the  other  commission 
ers.  There  is  nothing  to  give  unless  it  be  the  titles  and 
estate  of  the  late  Duke  of  Suffolk.  Perhaps  the  king  will 
give  these  to  your  paragon,  if  you  will  paint  him  in  as  fair 
a  light  as  you  have  drawn  him  for  me."  Then  throwing 
back  her  head  wTith  a  laugh,  "Ask  him." 

"It  would  be  none  too  much  for  his  deserts,"  I  replied, 
falling  in  with  her  humor. 

"We  will  so  arrange  it  then,"  went  on  Mary  banter- 
ingly ;  "Captain  Brandon  no  longer,  but  Charles  Bran 
don,  Duke  of  Suffolk.  How  sounds  it  Master  Casko- 
den?" 

"Sweet  in  my  ears,"  I  replied. 

"I  really  believe  you  would  have  the  king's  crown  for 
him,  you  absurd  man,  if  you  could  get  it.  We  must  have 
so  interesting  a  person  at  court ;  I  shall  at  least  see  that  he 
is  presented  to  the  queen  at  once.  I  wonder  if  he  dances, 
I  suppose  not.  He  has  probably  been  too  busy  cutting 
and  thrusting."  And  she  laughed  again  at  her  own 
pleasantry. 

When  the  mirth  began  to  gather  in  her  face  and  the 
dimples  came  responsive  to  her  smiles ;  when  she  threw 
back  her  perfectly  poised  head,  stretching  her  soft,  white 
throat,  so  full  and  round  and  beautiful,  half  closing  her 


42         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

big  brown  eyes  till  they  shone  again  from  beneath  the 
shade  of  those  long,  black  sweeping  lashes ;  when  her  red 
lips  parted,  showing  her  teeth  of  pearl,  and  she  gave  the 
little  clap  of  her  hands — a  sort  of  climax  to  the  soft,  low, 
rippling  laugh — she  made  a  picture  of  such  exquisite  love 
liness  that  it  is  no  wonder  men  were  fools  about  her,  and 
caught  love  as  one  catches  a  contagion.  I  had  it  once,  as 
you  already  know,  and  had  recovered.  All  that  prevented 
a  daily  relapse  was  my  fair  sweet  antidote,  Jane,  whose 
image  rested  in  my  heart,  a  lasting  safeguard. 

"I  wonder  if  your  prodigy  plays  cards ;  that  is,  such  as 
we  ladies  play?"  asked  Mary.  "You  say  he  has  lived 
much  in  France  where  the  game  was  invented,  but  I  have 
no  doubt  he  would  scorn  to  waste  his  time  at  so  frivolous 
a  pursuit,  when  he  might  be  slaughtering  armies  single- 
handed  and  alone." 

"I  do  not  know  as  to  his  dancing  and  card-playing,  but 
I  dare  venture  a  wager  he  does  both,"  I  replied,  not  liking 
her  tone  of  sarcasm.  She  had  yet  to  learn  who  Brandon 
w^as. 

"I  will  hazard  ten  crowns,"  said  Mary  quickly,  for  she 
loved  a  wager  and  was  a  born  gambler. 

"Taken,"  said  I. 

"We  will  try  him  on  both  to-morrow  nigiit  in  my  draw 
ing-room,"  she  continued.  "You  bring  him  up,  but  tell 
no  one.  I  will  have  Jane  there  with  her  lute,  which  will 
not  frighten  you  away  I  know,  and  we  will  try  his  step.  I 
will  have  cards,  too,  and  we  shall  see  what  he  can  do  at 
triumph.  Just  we  four — no  one  else  at  all.  You  and 
Jane,  the  new  Duke  of  Suffolk  and  I.  Oh !  I  can  hardly 
wait,"  and  she  fairly  danced  with  joyous  anticipation. 

The  thing  had  enough  irregularity  to  give  it  zest,  for 
while  Mary  often  had  a  few  young  people  in  her  drawing- 


A  LESSON  IN  DANCING  43 

room  the  companies  were  never  so  small  as  two  couples 
only,  and  the  king  and  queen,  to  make  up  for  greater 
faults,  were  wonderful  sticklers  in  the  matter  of  little,  pro 
prieties. 

The  ten-crown  wager,  too,  gave  spice  to  it,  but  to  do 
her  justice  she  cared  very  little  for  that.  The  princess 
loved  gambling  purely  for  gambling's  sake,  and  with  her, 
the  next  best  thing  to  winning_..waa^losing. 

When  I  went  to  my  room  that  night,  I  awakened  Bran 
don  and  told  him  of  the  distinguished  honor  that  awaited 
him. 

"Well!  I'll  be" — but  he  did  not  say  what  he  would 
"be."  He  always  halted  before  an  oath,  unless  angry, 
which  was  seldom,  but  then  beware! — he  had  learned  to 
swear  in  Flanders.  "How  she  did  fly  at  me  the  other 
morning ;  I  never  was  more  surprised  in  all  my  life.  For 
once  I  was  almost  caught  with  my  guard  down,  and  did 
not  know  how  to  parry  the  thrust.  I  mumbled  over  some 
sort  of  a  lame  retaliation  and  beat  a  retreat.  It  was  so 
unjust  and  uncalled  for  that  it  made  me  angry;  but  she 
was  so  gracious  in  her  amends  that  I  was  almost  glad  it 
happened.  I  like  a  woman  who  can  be  as  savage  as  the 
very  devil  when  it  pleases  her ;  she  usually  has  in  store  an 
assortment  of  possibilities  for  the  other  extreme." 

"She  told  me  of  your  encounter,"  I  returned,  "but 
said  she  had  come  off  second  best,  and  seemed  to  think 
her  overthrow  a  huge  joke." 

"The  man  who  learns  to  know  what  a  woman  thinks 
and  feels  will  have  a  great  deal  of  valuable  information," 
he  replied ;  and  then  turned  over  for  sleep,  greatly  pleased 
that  one  woman  thought  as  she  did. 

I  was  not  sure  he  would  be  so  highly  flattered  if  he 


44        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

knew  that  he  had  been  invited  to  settle  a  wager,  and  to 
help  Mary  to  a  little  sport. 

As  to  the  former,  I  had  an  interest  there  myself,  al 
though  I  dared  not  settle  the  question  by  asking  Brandon 
if  he  played  cards  and  danced ;  and,  as  to  the  matter  of 
Mary's  sport,  I  felt  there  was  but  little,  if  any,  danger,  of 
her  having  too  much  of  it  at  his  expense,  Brandon  being 
well  able  to  care  for  himself  in  that  respect. 

The  next  evening,  at  the  appointed  time,  we  wended  our 
way,  by  an  unfrequented  route,  and  presented  ourselves, 
as  secretly  as  possible,  at  the  drawing-room  of  the  prin 
cess. 

The  door  was  opened  by  Lady  Jane,  and  we  met  the 
two  girls  almost  at  the  threshold.  I  had  told  Brandon 
of  the  bantering  conversation  about  the  title  and  estates 
of  the  late  Duke  of  Suffolk,  and  he  had  laughed  over  it 
in  the  best  of  humor.  If  quick  to  retaliate  for  an  inten 
tional  offense,  he  was  not  thin-skinned  at  a  piece  of  pleas 
antry,  and  had  none  of  that  stiff,  sensitive  dignity,  so 
troublesome  to  one's  self  and  friends. 

Now,  Jane  and  Mary  were  always  bantering  me  be 
cause  I  was  short,  and  inclined  to  be — in  fact — round,  but 
I  did  not  care.  It  made  them  laugh,  and  their  laughing 
was  so  contagious,  it  made  me  laugh,  too,  and  we  all  en 
joyed  it.  I  would  give  a  pound  sterling  any  time  for  a 
good  laugh ;  and  that,  I  think,  is  why  I  have  always  been 
— round. 

So,  upon  entering,  I  said: 

"His  Grace,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  ladies." 

They  each  made  a  sweeping  courtesy,  with  hand  on 
breast,  and  gravely  saluted  him : 

"Your  Grace !  Good  even'." 

Brandon's  bow  was  as  deep  and  graceful,  if  that  were 


A  LESSON  IN  DANCING  45 

possible,  as  theirs,  and  when  he  moved  on  into  the  room  it 
was  with  a  little  halt  in  his  step,  and  a  big  blowing  out  of 
the  cheeks,  in  ludicrous  imitation  of  his  late  lamented  pre 
decessor,  that  sent  the  girls  into  peals  of  soft  laughter  and 
put  us  all  at  our  ease  immediately. 

Ah !  what  a  thing  it  is  to  look  back  upon ;  that  time  of 
life  when  one  finds  his  heaven  in  a  ready  laugh ! 

"Be  seated  all/'  said  the  princess.  "This  is  to  be 
without  ceremony,  and  only  we  four.  No  one  knows  a 
word  of  it.  Did  you  tell  anyone,  Sir  Edwin?" 

"Perish  the  thought,"  I  exclaimed. 

She  turned  her  face  toward  Brandon,  " —  but  I  know 
you  did  not.  I've  heard  how  discreet  you  were  about  an 
other  matter.  Well,  no  one  knows  it  then,  and  we  can 
have  a  famous  evening.  You  did  not  expect  this,  Master 
Brandon,  after  my  reception  of  you  the  other  morning? 
Were  you  not  surprised  when  Sir  Edwin  told  you?" 

"I  think  I  can  safely  say  that  I  was  prepared  not  to  be 
surprised  at  anything  your  highness  might  graciously  con 
clude  to  do — after  my  first  experience,"  he  answered  smil 
ing. 

"Indeed?"  returned  Mary  with  elevated  eyebrows,  and 
a  rising  inflection  on  the  last  syllable  of  the  word.  It 
was  now  her  turn  for  a  little  surprise.  "Well,  we'll  try 
to  find  some  way  to  surprise  you  one  of  these  days;" 
and  the  time  came  when  she  was  full  of  surprises  for  him. 
Mary  continued :  "But  let  us  not  talk  about  the  other  day. 
Of  what  use  are  'other  days'  anyway?  Before  the  even 
ing  is  over,  Master  Brandon,  we  want  you  to  give  us  an 
other  sermon,"  and  she  laughed,  setting  off  three  other 
laughs  as  hearty  and  sincere  as  if  she  had  uttered  the 
rarest  witticism  on  earth. 


4°        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

The  princess  had  told  Jane  and  Jane  had  told  me  of  the 
"Sermon  in  the  Park,"  as  Mary  called  it. 

"Jane  needs  it  as  much  as  I,"  said  the  princess. 

"I  can't  believe  that,"  responded  Brandon,  looking  at 
Jane  with  a  softening  glance  quite  too  admiring  and  com 
mendatory  to  suit  me;  for  I  was  a  jealous  little  devil. 

The  eyebrows  went  up  again. 

"Oh!  you  think  she  doesn't?  Well!  in  truth,  Mas 
ter  Brandon,  there  is  one  failing  that  can  not  be  laid 
at  your  door ;  you  are  no  flatterer."  For  answer  Brandon 
laughed  and  that  gave  us  the  cue,  and  away  we  went 
in  a  rippling  chorus,  all  about  nothing.  Some  persons 
may  call  our  laughter  foolish,  but  there  are  others  who 
consider  it  the  height  of  all  wisdom.  St.  George!  I'd 
give  my  Garter  for  just  one  other  laugh  like  that ;  for  just 
one  other  hour  of  youth's  dancing  blood  and  glowing 
soul-warmth;  of  sweet,  unconscious,  happy  heart-beat 
and  paradise-creating  joy  in  everything. 

After  a  few  minutes  of  gay  conversation,  in  which  we 
all  joined,  Mary  asked:  "What  shall  we  do?  Will  one 
of  you  suggest  something?" 

Jane  sat  there  looking  so  demure  you  would  have 
thought  mischief  could  not  live  within  a  league  of  her, 
but  those  very  demure  girls  are  nearly  always  dangerous. 
She  said,  oh !  so  innocently : 

"Would  you  like  to  dance?  If  so,  I  will  play."  And 
she  reached  for  her  lute  which  was  by  her  side. 

"Yes,  that  will  be  delightful.  Master  Brandon,  will 
you  dance  with  me  ?"  asked  the  princess,  with  a  saucy  lit 
tle  laugh,  her  invitation  meaning  so  much  more  to  three  of 
us  than  to  Brandon.  Jane  and  I  joined  in  the  laugh,  and 
when  Mary  clapped  her  hands  that  set  Brandon  off  too, 
for  he  thought  it  the  quaintest,  prettiest  little  gesture  in 


A  LESSON  IN  DANCING  47 

the  world,  and  was  all  unconscious  that  our  laugh  was  at 
his  expense. 

Brandon  did  not  answer  Mary's  invitation — the  fit  of 
laughter  had  probably  put  it  out  of  his  mind — so  she,  evi 
dently  anxious  to  win  or  lose  her  wager  at  once,  again 
asked  him  if  he  danced. 

''Oh,  pardon  me.  Of  course.  Thank  you/'  And  he 
was  on  his  feet  beside  her  chair  in  an  instant  ready  for 
the  dance.  This  time  the  girl's  laugh,  though  equally 
merry,  had  another  tone,  for  she  knew  she  had  lost. 

Out  they  stepped  upon  the  polished  floor,  he  holding 
her  hand  in  his,  awaiting  the  pause  in  the  music  to  take 
the  step.  I  shall  never  forget  the  sight  of  those  two 
standing  there  together — Mary,  dark-eyed  and  glowing; 
Brandon,  almost  rosy,  with  eyes  that  held  the  color  of  a 
deep  spring  sky,  and  a  wealth  of  flowing  curls  crowning 
his  six  feet  of  perfect  manhood,  strong  and  vigorous  as  a 
young  lion.  Mary,  full  of  beauty-curves  and  graces,  a 
veritable  Venus  in  her  teens,  and  Brandon,  an  Apollo, 
with  a  touch  of  Hercules,  were  a  complement  each  to  the 
other  that  would  surely  make  a  perfect  one. 

When  the  music  started,  off  they  went,  heel  and  toe, 
bow  and  courtesy,  a  step  forward  and  a  step  back,  in  per 
fect  time  and  rhythm — a  poem  of  human  motion.  Could 
Brandon  dance  ?  The  princess  had  her  answer  in  the  first 
ten  steps.  Xothing  could  be  more  graceful  than  Bran 
don's  dancing,  unless  it  were  Mary's.  Her  slightest 
movement  was  grace  itself.  When  she  would  throw  her 
self  backward  in  thrusting  out  her  toe,  and  then  swing 
forward  with  her  head  a  little  to  one  side,  her  uplifted 
arm  undulating  like  the  white  neck  of  a  swan, — for  her 
sleeve,  which  was  slit  to  the  shoulder,  fell  back  and  left 
it  bare, — she  was  a  sight  worth  a  long  journey  to  see. 


48        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

And  when  she  looked  up  to  Brandon  with  a  laugh  in  her 
brown  eyes,  and  a  curving  smile  just  parting  her  full,  red 
lips,  that  a  man  would  give  his  very  luck  to — but 
I  had  better  stop. 

"Was  there  ever  a  goodlier  couple?"  I  asked  Jane, 
by  whose  side  I  sat. 

"Never,"  she  responded  as  she  played,  and,  strange  to 
say,  I  was  jealous  because  she  agreed  with  me.  I  was 
jealous  because  I  feared  it  was  Brandon's  beauty  to  which 
she  referred.  That  I  thought  would  naturally  appeal  to 
her.  Had  he  been  less  handsome,  I  should  perhaps  have 
thought  nothing  of  it,  but  I  knew  what  my  feelings  were 
toward  Mary,  and  I  judged,  or  rather  misjudged,  Jane  by 
myself.  I  supposed  she  would  think  of  Brandon  as  I 
could  not  help  thinking  of  Mary.  Was  anything  in  heav 
en  or  earth  ever  so  beautiful  as  that  royal  creature,  danc 
ing  there,  daintily  holding  up  her  skirts  with  thumb  and 
first  finger  just  far  enough  to  show  a  distracting  little 
foot  and  ankle,  and  make  one  wish  he  had  been  born  a 
sheep  rather  than  a  sentient  man  who  had  to  live  without 
Mary  Tudor?  Yet,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  was  really 
and  wholly  in  love  with  Jane ;  in  fact,  I  loved  no  one  but 
Jane,  and  my  feeling  of  intense  admiration  for  Mary  was 
but  a  part  of  man's  composite  inconstancy. 

A  woman — God  bless  her — if  she  really  loves  a  man, 
has  no  thought  of  any  other ;  one  at  a  time  is  all-sufficient ; 
but  a  man  may  love  one  woman  with  the  warmth  of  a 
simoon,  and  at  the  same  time  feel  like  a  good  healthy 
south  wind  toward  a  dozen  others.  That  is  the  difference 
between  a  man  and  a  woman — the  difference  between  the 
good  and  the  bad.  One  average  woman  has  enough  good 
ness  in  her  to  supply  an  army  of  men. 

Man  and  Brandon  went  on  dancing  long  after  Jane  was 


A  LESSOX  IX  DAXCIXG 
tired  of  playing.    It  was  plain  to  see  that  th 


once:  1 

to  know  it.     In  France,  they  say.  it  is  the  only  game.     I 
suppose  there  is  where  you  learned  it  ?    Perhaps  you  know 
their  new  dances  too!    I  have  heard  they  are  delightful. 
:hem."  rec'iei  ?rar.i:r.. 

-."•"    ."  :  :    -~-~:    '•-    --enV"   ":.:-:.:   ::.:'.   me   2.:    "::- 
:-:       Master  ::  :he  I  ince?     Here  is  vc-r  frier  :  •:-.:: 


•• 


50        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

struck  up  "The  Sailor  Lass."  After  she  had  adjusted  the 
playing  to  Brandon's  suggestion,  he  stepped  deliberately 
in  front  of  Mary,  and,  taking  her  right  hand  in  his  left, 
encircled  her  waist  with  his  right  arm.  The  girl  was 
startled  at  first  and  drew  away.  This  nettled  Brandon  a 
little,  and  he  showed  it  plainly. 

"I  thought  you  wished  me  to  teach  you  the  new  dance  ?" 
he  said. 

"I  do,  but — but  I  did  not  know  it  was  danced  that  way," 
she  replied  with  a  fluttering  little  laugh,  looking  up  into 
his  face  with  a  half  shy,  half  apologetic  manner,  and  then 
dropping  her  lashes  before  his  gaze. 

"Oh,  well!"  said  Brandon,  with  a  Frenchman's  shrug 
of  the  shoulders,  and  then  moved  off  as  if  about  to  leave 
the  floor. 

"But  is  that  really  the  way  you — they  dance  it?  With 
your — their  arm  around  my — a  lady's  waist?" 

"I  should  not  have  dared  venture  upon  such  a  familiar 
ity  otherwise,"  answered  Brandon,  with  a  glimmer  of  a 
smile  playing  around  his  lips  and  hiding  in  his  eyes. 

Mary  saw  this  shadowy  smile,  and  said :  "Oh !  I  fear 
your  modesty  will  cause  you  hurt ;  I  am  beginning  to  be 
lieve  you  would  dare  do  anything  you  wish.  I  more  than 
half  suspect  you  are  a  very  bold  man,  notwithstanding 
your  smooth,  modest  manner." 

"You  do  me  foul  wrong,  I  assure  you.  I  am  the  soul 
of  modesty,  and  grieve  that  you  should  think  me  bold," 
said  Brandon,  with  a  broadening  smile. 

Mary  interrupted  him.  "Now,  I  do  believe  you  are 
laughing  at  me — at  my  prudery,  I  suppose  you  think  it." 

Mary  would  rather  have  been  called  a  fool  than  a 
prude,  and  I  think  she  was  right.  Prudery  is  no  more  a 


A  LESSON  IN  DANCING  51 

sign  of  virtue  than  a  wig  is  of  hair.  It  is  usually  put  on 
to  hide  a  bald  place. 

The  princess  stood  irresolute  for  a  moment  in  evident 
hesitation  and  annoyance. 

"You  are  grieving  because  I  think  you  bold !  And  yet 
you  stand  there  laughing  at  me  to  my  face.  I  think  so 
more  than  ever  now.  I  know  it.  Oh,  you  make  me  an 
gry  !  Don't !  I  do  not  like  persons  who  anger  me  and 
then  laugh  at  me."  This  turned  Brandon's  smile  into  a 
laugh  which  he  could  not  hold  back. 

Mary's  eyes  shot  fire,  and  she  stamped  her  foot,  exclaim 
ing:  "Sir,  this  goes  beyond  all  bounds;  I  will  not  tol 
erate  your  boldness  another  moment."  I  thought  she  was 
going  to  dismiss  him,  but  she  did  not.  The  time  had  come 
when  he  or  she  must  be  the  master. 

It  was  a  battle  royal  between  the  forces  on  the  floor, 
and  I  enjoyed  it  and  felt  that  Brandon  would  come  out  all 
right. 

He  said  good-humoredly :  "What,  shall  you  have  all 
the  laugh  in  your  sleeve  at  my  expense?  Do  you  expect 
to  bring  me  here  to  win  a  wager  for  you,  made  on  the  as 
sumption  of  my  stupidity  and  lack  of  social  accomplish 
ments,  and  then  complain  when  it  comes  my  turn  to 
laugh  ?  I  think  I  am  the  one  who  should  be  offended,  but 
you  see  I  am  not." 

"Caskoden,  did  you  tell  him?"  demanded  Mary,  evi 
dently  referring  to  the  wager. 

"He  said  not  a  word  of  it,"  broke  in  Brandon,  answer 
ing  for  me ;  "I  should  have  been  a  dullard,  indeed,  not  to 
have  seen  it  myself  after  what  you  said  about  the  loss  of 
your  ten  crowns ;  so  let  us  cry  quits  and  begin  again." 

Mary  reluctantly  struck  her  flag. 

"Very  well,  I  am  willing,"  she  said  laughingly;  "but 


52         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

as  to  your  boldness,  I  still  insist  upon  that ;  I  forgive  you, 
however,  this  time."  Then,  half  apologetically,  "After 
all,  it  is  not  such  a  grievous  charge  to  make.  I  believe  it 
never  yet  injured  any  man  with  a  woman ;  they  rather  like 
it,  I  am  afraid,  however  angry  it  makes  them.  Don't 
they,  Jane?" 

Jane,  of  course,  "did  not  know,"  so  we  all  laughed,  as 
usual,  upon  the  slightest  pretext,  and  Mary,  that  fair 
bundle  of  contradictions  and  quick  transitions,  stepped 
boldly  up  to  Brandon,  with  her  colors  flying  in  her  cheeks, 
ready  for  the  first  lesson  in  the  new  dance. 

She  was  a  little  frightened  at  his  arm  around  her  waist, 
for  the  embrace  was  new  to  her — the  first  touch  of  man — 
and  was  shy  and  coy,  though  willing,  being  determined  to 
learn  the  dance.  She  was  an  apt  pupil  and  soon  glided 
softly  and  gracefully  around  the  room  with  unfeigned  de 
light  ;  yielding  to  the  new  situation  more  easily  as  she  be 
came  accustomed  to  it. 

This  dance  was  livelier  exercise  than  La  Galliard,  and 
Mary  could  not  talk  much  for  lack  of  breath.  Brandon 
kept  the  conversation  going  though,  and  she  answered 
with  glances,  smiles,  nods  and  monosyllables — a  very  good 
vocabulary  in  its  way,  and  a  very  good  way,  too,  for  that 
matter. 

Once  he  said  something  to  her,  in  a  low  voice,  which 
brought  a  flush  to  her  cheeks  and  caused  her  to  glance 
quickly  up  into  his  face.  By  the  time  her  answer  came 
they  were  nearer  us,  and  I  heard  her  say :  "I  am  afraid 
I  shall  have  to  forgive  you  again  if  you  are  not  careful. 
Let  me  see  an  exhibition  of  that  modesty  you  so  much 
boast."  But  a  smile  and  a  flash  of  the  eyes  went  with  the 
words,  and  took  all  the  sting  out  of  them. 

After  a  time  the  dancers  stopped,  and  Mary,  with 


A  LESSON  IN  DANCING  53 

flushed  face  and  sparkling  eyes,  sank  into  a  chair,  ex 
claiming:  "The  new  dance  is  delightful,  Jane.  It  is 
like  flying;  your  partner  helps  you  so.  But  what  would 
the  king  say  ?  And  the  queen  ?  She  would  simply  swoon 
with  horror.  It  is  delightful  though."  Then,  with  more 
confusion  in  her  manner  than  I  had  ever  before  seen: 
"That  is,  it  is  delightful  if  one  chooses  her  partner." 

This  only  made  matters  worse,  and  gave  Brandon  an 
opportunity. 

"Dare  I  hope?" — he  asked,  with  a  deferential  bow. 

"Oh,  yes ;  you  may  hope.  I  tell  you  frankly  it  was  de 
lightful  with  you.  Now,  are  you  satisfied,  my  modest 
one  ?  Jane,  I  see  we  have  a  forward  body  here ;  no  telling 
what  he  will  be  at  next,"  said  Mary,  with  evident  impa 
tience,  rapidly  swaying  her  fan.  She  spoke  almost  sharp 
ly,  for  Brandon's  attitude  was  more  that  of  an  equal  than 
she  was  accustomed  to,  and  her  royal  dignity,  which  was 
the  artificial  part  of  her,  rebelled  against  it  now  and  then 
in  spite  of  her  real  inclinations.  The  habit  of  receiving 
only  adulation,  and  living  on  a  pinnacle  above  everybody 
else,  was  so  strong  from  continued  practice,  that  it  ap 
pealed  to  her  as  a  duty  to  maintain  that  elevation.  She 
had  never  before  been  called  upon  to  exert  herself  in  that 
direction,  and  the  situation  was  new.  The  servile  ones 
with  whom  she  usually  associated  maintained  it  for  her; 
so  she  now  felt,  whenever  she  thought  of  it,  that  she  was 
in  duty  bound  to  clamber  back,  at  least  part  of  the  way, 
to  her  dignity,  however  pleasant  it  was,  personally,  down 
below  in  the  denser  atmosphere  of  informality. 

In  her  heart  the  princess  preferred  upon  proper  occa 
sions,  such  as  this,  to  abate  her  dignity,  and  often  re 
quested  others  to  dispense  with  ceremony,  as,  in  fact,  she 
had  done  with  us  earlier  in  the  evening.  But  Brandon's 


54         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

easy  manner,  although  perfectly  respectful  and  elegantly 
polite,  was  very  different  from  anything  she  had  ever 
known.  She  enjoyed  it,  but  every  now  and  then  the 
sense  of  her  importance  and  dignity — for  you  must  re 
member  she  was  the  first  princess  of  the  blood  royal — 
would  supersede  even  her  love  of  enjoyment,  and  the  girl 
went  down  and  the  princess  came  up.  Besides,  she  half 
feared  that  Brandon  was  amusing  himself  at  her  expense, 
and  that,  in  fact,  this  was  a  new  sort  of  masculine  worm. 
Really,  she  sometimes  doubted  if  it  were  a  worm  at  all, 
and  did  not  know  what  to  expect,  nor  what  she  ought  to 
do. 

She  was  far  more  girl  than  princess,  and  would  have 
preferred  to  remain  merely  girl  and  let  events  take  the 
i  course  they  were  going,  for  she  liked  it.  But  there  was 
;  the  other  part  of  her  which  was  princess,  and  which  kept 
saying:  "Remember  who  you  are,"  so  she  was  plainly 
at  a  loss  between  natural  and  artificial  inclinations  con 
tending  unconsciously  within  her. 

Replying  to  Mary's  remark  over  Jane's  shoulder,  Bran 
don  said : 

"Your  highness  asked  us  to  lay  aside  ceremony  for  the 
evening,  and  if  I  have  offended  I  can  but  make  for  my  ex 
cuse  my  desire  to  please  you.  Be  sure  I  shall  offend  no 
more."  This  was  said  so  seriously  that  his  meaning 
could  not  be  misunderstood.  He  did  not  care  whether  he 
pleased  so  capricious  a  person  or  not. 

Mary  made  no  reply,  and  it  looked  as  if  Brandon  had 
the  worst  of  it. 

We  sat  a  few  minutes  talking,  Mary  wearing  an  air  of 
dignity.  Cards  were  proposed,  and  as  the  game  pro 
gressed  she  gradually  unbent  again  and  became  as  af 
fable  and  familiar  as  earlier  in  the  evening.  Brandon, 


A  LESSON  IN  DANCING  55 

however,  was  frozen.  He  was  polite,  dignified  and  defer 
ential  to  the  ladies,  but  the  spirit  of  the  evening  was  gone, 
since  he  had  furnished  it  all  with  his  free,  off-hand  man 
ner,  full  of  life  and  brightness. 

After  a  short  time,  Mary's  warming  mood  failing  to 
thaw  our  frozen  fun-maker,  and  in  her  heart  infinitely  pre 
ferring  pleasure  to  dignity,  she  said :  "Oh,  this  is  weari 
some.  Your  game  is  far  less  entertaining  than  your  new 
dance.  Do  something  to  make  me  laugh,  Master  Bran 
don." 

"I  fear  you  must  call  in  Will  Sommers,"  he  replied, 
"if  you  wish  to  laugh.  I  can  not  please  you  in  both 
ways,  so  will  hold  to  the  one  which  seems  to  suit  the 
princess." 

Mary's  eyes  flashed  and  she  said  ironically: 

"That  sounds  very  much  as  though  you  cared  to  please 
me  in  any  way."  Her  lips  parted  and  she  evidently  had 
something  unkind  ready  to  say;  but  she  held  the  breath 
she  had  taken  to  speak  it  with,  and,  after  one  or  two  false 
starts  in  as  many  different  lines,  continued :  "But  per 
haps  I  deserve  it.  I  ask  you  to  forgive  me,  and  hereafter 
desire  you  three,  upon  all  proper  occasions,  when  we  are 
by  ourselves,  to  treat  me  as  one  of  you — as  a  woman — a 
girl,  I  mean.  Where  is  the  virtue  of  royalty  if  it  only 
means  being  put  upon  a  pinnacle  above  all  the  real  pleas 
ures  of  life,  like  foolish  old  Stylites  on  his  column  ?  The 
queen  is  always  preaching  to  me  about  the  strict  main 
tenance  of  my  'dignity  royal/  as  she  calls  it,  and  perhaps 
she  is  right;  but  out  upon  'dignity  royal'  say  I;  it  is  a 
terrible  nuisance.  Oh,  you  don't  know  how  difficult  it  is 
to  be  a  princess  and  not  a  fool.  There !"  And  she  sighed 
in  apparent  relief. 

Then  turning  to  Brandon,  "You  have  taught  me  an- 


56        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

other  good  lesson,  sir,  and  from  this  hour  you  are  my 
friend,  if  you  will  be,  so  long  as  you  are  worthy — no,  I 
do  not  mean  that;  I  know  you  will  always  be  worthy — 
but  forever.  Now  we  are  at  rights  again.  Let  us  try  to 
remain  so — that  is,  I  will,"  and  she  laughingly  gave  him 
her  hand,  which  he,  rising  to  his  feet,  bowed  low  over  and 
kissed,  rather  fervently  and  lingeringly,  I  thought. 

Hand-kissing  was  new  to  us  in  England,  excepting  in 
case  of  the  king  and  queen  at  public  homage.  It  was  a 
little  startling  to  Mary,  though  she  permitted  him  to  hold 
her  hand  much  longer  than  there  was  any  sort  of  need — a 
fact  she  recognized,  as  I  could  easily  see  from  her  tell-tale 
cheeks,  which  were  rosy  with  the  thought  of  it. 

So  it  is  when  a  woman  goes  on  the  defensive  prema 
turely  and  without  cause ;  it  makes  it  harder  to  apply  the 
check  when  the  real  need  comes. 

After  a  little  card-playing  I  expressed  regret  to  Jane 
that  I  could  not  have  a  dance  with  her  for  lack  of  music. 

"I  will  play,  if  the  ladies  permit,"  said  Brandon ;  and  he 
took  Lady  Jane's  lute  and  played  and  sang  some  very 
pretty  little  love  songs  and  some  comic  ones,  too,  in  a 
style  not  often  heard  in  England,  so  far  away  from  the 
home  of  the  troubadour  and  lute.  He  was  full  of  sur 
prises,  this  splendid  fellow,  with  his  accomplishments  and 
graces. 

When  we  had  danced  as  long  as  we  wished — that  is,  as 
Jane  wished — as  for  myself,  I  would  have  been  dancing 
yet — Mary  again  asked  us  to  be  seated.  Jane  having 
rested,  Brandon  offered  to  teach  her  the  new  dance,  say 
ing  he  could  whistle  an  air  well  enough  to  give  her  the 
step.  I  at  once  grew  uneasy  with  jealous  suspense,  for  I 
did  not  wish  Brandon  to  dance  in  that  fashion  with  Jane, 
but  to  my  great  relief  she  replied : 


A  LESSON  IN  DANCING  57 

"No;  thank  you;  not  to-night."  Then  shyly  glancing 
toward  me:  "Perhaps  Sir  Edwin  will  teach  me  when  he 
learns.  It  is  his  business,  you  know." 

Would  I?  If  a  month,  night  and  day,  would  conquer 
it,  the  new  dance  was  as  good  as  done  for  already.  That 
was  the  first  real  mark  of  favor  I  ever  had  from  Jane. 

We  now  had  some  songs  from  Mary  and  Jane ;  then 
I  gave  one,  and  Brandon  sang  again  at  Mary's  re 
quest.  We  had  duets  and  quartets  and  solos,  and  the 
songs  were  all  sweet,  for  they  came  from  the  heart  of 
youth,  and  went  to  the  soul  of  youth,  rich  in  its  God-given 
fresh  delight  in  everything.  Then  we  talked,  and  Mary, 
and  Jane,  too,  with  a  sly,  shy,  soft  little  word  now  and 
then,  drew  Brandon  out  to  tell  of  his  travels  and  adven 
tures.  He  was  a  pleasing  talker,  and  had  a  smooth, 
easy  flow  of  words,  speaking  always  in  a  low,  clear  voice 
and  with  perfect  composure.  He  had  a  way  of  looking 
first  one  auditor  and  then  another  straight  in  the  eyes  with 
a  magnetic  effect  that  gave  to  everything  he  said  an  added 
interest.  Although  at  that  time  less  than  twenty-five 
years  old,  he  was  really  a  learned  man,  having  studied  at 
Barcelona,  Salamanca  and  Paris.  While  there  had 
been  no  system  in  his  education,  his  mind  was  a  sort  of 
knowledge  junk-shop,  wherein  he  could  find  almost  any 
thing  he  wanted.  He  spoke  German,  French  and  Span 
ish,  and  seemed  to  know  the  literature  of  all  these  lan 
guages. 

He  told  us  he  had  left  home  at  the  early  age  of  six 
teen  as  his  uncle's  esquire,  and  had  fought  in  France,  then 
down  in  Holland  with  the  Dutch;  had  been  captured  by 
the  Spanish  and  had  joined  the  Spanish  army,  as  it  mat 
tered  not  where  he  fought,  so  that  there  was  a  chance  for 
honorable  achievement  and  a  fair  ransom  now  and  then. 


58  WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

He  told  us  how  he  had  gone  to  Barcelona  and  Salamanca, 
where  he  had  studied,  and  thence  to  Granada,  among  the 
Moors ;  of  his  fighting  against  the  pirates  of  Barbary,  his 
capture  by  them,  his  slavery  and  adventurous  escape ;  and 
his  regret  that  now  drowsy  peace  kept  him  mewed  up  in  a 
palace. 

"It  is  true,"  he  said,  "there  is  a  prospect  of  trouble 
with  Scotland,  but  I  would  rather  fight  a  pack  of  howling, 
starving  wolves  than  the  Scotch ;  they  fight  like  very  dev 
ils,  which,  of  course,  is  well  but  you  have  nothing  after 
you  have  beaten  them,  not  even  a  good  whole  wolf  skin." 

In  an  unfortunate  moment  Mary  said:  "Oh,  Master 
Brandon,  tell  us  of  your  duel  with  Judson." 

Thoughtful,  considerate  Jane  frowned  at  the  princess  in 
surprise,  and  put  her  finger  on  her  lips. 

"Your  ladyship,  I  fear  I  can  not,"  he  answered,  and  left 
his  seat,  going  over  to  the  window,  where  he  stood,  with 
his  back  towards  us,  looking  out  into  the  darkness.  Mary 
saw  what  she  had  done,  and  her  eyes  grew  moist,  for, 
with  all  her  faults,  she  had  a  warm,  tender  heart  and  a 
quick,  responsive  sympathy.  After  a  few  seconds  of 
painful  silence,  she  went  softly  over  to  the  window  where 
Brandon  stood. 

"Sir,  forgive  me,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand  prettily 
upon  his  arm.  "I  should  have  known.  Believe  me,  I 
would  not  have  hurt  you  intentionally." 

"Ah !  my  lady,  the  word  was  thoughtlessly  spoken,  and 
needs  no  forgiveness ;  but  your  heart  shows  itself  in  the 
asking,  and  I  thank  you ;  I  wanted  but  a  moment  to  throw 
off  the  thought  of  that  terrible  day."  Then  they  came 
back  together,  and  the  princess,  who  had  tact  enough 
when  she  cared  to  use  it,  soon  put  matters  right  again. 

I  started  to  tell  one  of  my  best  stories  in  order  to  cheer 
Brandon,  but  in  the  midst  of  it,  Mary,  who,  I  had  no- 


A  LESSON  IN  DANCING  59 

ticed,  was  restless  and  uneasy,  full  of  blushes  and  hesi 
tancy,  and  with  a  manner  as  new  to  her  as  the  dawn  of 
the  first  day  was  to  the  awakening  world,  abruptly  asked 
Brandon  to  dance  with  her  again.  She  had  risen  and 
was  standing  by  her  chair,  ready  to  be  led  out. 

"Gladly,"  answered  Brandon,  as  he  sprung  to  her  side 
and  took  her  hand.  "Which  shall  it  be,  La  Galliard  or 
the  new  dance?"  And  Mary  standing  there,  the  picture 
of  waiting,  willing  modesty,  lifted  her  free  hand  to  his 
shoulder,  tried  to  raise  her  eyes  to  his  but  failed,  and 
softly  said:  "The  new  dance." 

This  time  the  dancing  was  more  soberly  done,  and  when 
Mary  stopped  it  was  with  serious,  thoughtful  eyes,  for 
she  had  felt  the  tingling  of  a  new  strange  force  in  Bran 
don's  touch.  A  man,  not  a  worm,  but  a  real  man,  with  all 
the  irresistible  infinite  attractions  that  a  man  may  have  for 
a  woman — the  subtle  drawing  of  the  loadstone  for  the  pas 
sive  iron — had  come  into  her  life.  Doubly  sweet  it  was 
to  her  intense,  young  virgin  soul,  in  that  it  first  revealed 
the  dawning  of  that  two-edged  bliss  which  makes  a 
heaven  or  a  hell  of  earth — of  earth,  which  owes  its  very 
existence  to  love. 

I  do  not  mean  that  Mary  was  in  love,  but  that  she  had 
met,  and  for  the  first  time  felt  the  touch,  yes  even  the 
subtle,  unconscious,  dominating  force  so  sweet  to  woman, 
of  the  man  she  could  love,  and  had  known  the  rarest  throb 
that  pulses  in  that  choicest  of  all  God's  perfect  handiwork 
— a  woman's  heart — the  throb  that  goes  before — the  John, 
the  Baptist,  as  it  were,  of  coming  love. 

It  being  after  midnight,  Mary  filled  two  cups  of  wine, 
from  each  of  which  she  took  a  sip,  and  handed  them  to 
Brandon  and  me.  She  then  paid  me  the  ten  crowns, 
very  soberly  thanked  us  and  said  we  were  at  liberty  to  go. 


60        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

The  only  words  Brandon  ever  spoke  concerning  that 
evening  were  just  as  we  retired: 

"Jesu!  she  is  perfect.  But  you  were  wrong,  Casko- 
den.  I  can  still  thank  God  I  am  not  in  love  with  her.  I 
would  fall  upon  my  sword  if  I  were." 

I  was  upon  the  point  of  telling  him  she  had  never 
treated  any  other  man  as  she  had  treated  him,  but  I 
thought  best  to  leave  it  unsaid.  Trouble  was  apt  to  come 
of  its  own  accord  soon  enough. 

In  truth,  I  may  as  well  tell  you,  that  when  the  princess 
asked  me  to  bring  Brandon  to  her  that  she  might  have  a 
little  sport  at  his  expense,  she  looked  for  a  laugh,  but 
found  a  sigh. 


CHAPTER  V 

AN  HONOR  AND  AN  ENEMY 

A  day  or  two  after  this,  Brandon  was  commanded  to 
an  audience,  and  presented  to  the  king  and  queen.  He 
was  now  eligible  to  all  palace  entertainments,  and  vvould 
probably  have  many  invitations,  being  a  favorite  with  both 
their  majesties.  As  to  his  standing  writh  Mary,  who  was 
really  the  most  important  figure,  socially,  about  the  court, 
I  could  not  exactly  say.  She  was  such  a  mixture  of  con 
tradictory  impulses  and  rapid  transitions,  and  was  so  full 
of  whims  and  caprice,  the  inevitable  outgrowth  of  her 
blood,  her  rank  and  the  adulation  amid  which  she  had  al 
ways  lived,  that  I  could  not  predict  for  a  day  ahead  her 
attitude  toward  any  one.  She  had  never  shown  so  great 
favor  to  any  man  as  to  Brandon,  but  just  how  much  of 
her  condescension  was  a  mere  whim,  growing  out  of  the 
impulse  of  the  moment,  and  subject  to  reaction,  I  could 
not  tell.  I  believed,  however,  that  Brandon  stood  upon 
a  firmer  foundation  with  this  changing,  shifting,  quick 
sand  of  a  girl  than  with  either  of  their  majesties. 

In  fact  I  thought  he  rested  upon  her  heart  itself.  But 
to  guess  correctly  what  a  girl  of  that  sort  will  do,  or  think, 
or  feel  would  require  inspiration. 

Of  course  most  of  the  entertainments  given  by  the  king 
and  queen  included  as  guests  nearly  all  the  court,  but 
Mary  often  had  little  fetes  and  dancing  parties  which  were 
smaller,  more  select  and  informal.  These  parties  were 
really  with  the  consent  and  encouragement  of  the  king,  to 

(61) 


62         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

avoid  the  responsibility  of  not  inviting  everybody.  The 
larger  affairs  were  very  dull  and  smaller  ones  might  give 
offense  to  those  who  were  left  out.  The  latter,  therefore, 
were  turned  over  to  Mary,  who  cared  very  little  who  was 
offended  or  who  was  not,  and  invitations  to  them  were 
highly  valued. 

One  afternoon,  a  day  or  two  after  Brandon's  presenta 
tion,  a  message  arrived  from  Mary,  notifying  me  that  she 
would  have  a  little  fete  that  evening  in  one  of  the  smaller 
halls  and  directing  me  to  be  there  as  Master  of  the  Dance. 
Accompanying  the  message  was  a  note  from  no  less  a  per 
son  than  the  princess  herself,  inviting  Brandon. 

This  was  an  honor  indeed — an  autograph  invitation 
from  the  hand  of  Mary !  But  the  masterful  rascal  did  not 
seem  to  consider  it  anything  unusual,  and  when  I  handed 
him  the  note  upon  his  return  from  the  hunt,  he  simply 
read  it  carelessly  over  once,  tore  it  in  pieces  and  tossed 
it  away.  I  believe  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  \vould  have 
given  ten  thousand  crowns  to  receive  such  a  note,  and 
would  doubtless  have  shown  it  to  half  the  court  in  tri 
umphant  confidence  before  the  middle  of  the  night.  To 
this  great  captain  of  the  guard  it  was  but  a  scrap  of  paper. 
He  was  glad  to  have  it  nevertheless,  and,  with  all  his  self- 
restraint  and  stoicism,  could  not  conceal  his  pleasure. 

Brandon  at  once  accepted  the  invitation  in  a  personal 
note  to  the  princess.  The  boldness  of  this  actually  took 
my  breath,  and  it  seems  at  first  to  have  startled  Mary  a 
little,  also.  As  you  must  know  by  this  time,  her  "dignity 
royal"  was  subject  to  alarms,  and  quite  her  most  trouble 
some  attribute — very  apt  to  receive  damage  in  her  rela 
tions  with  Brandon. 

Mary  did  not  destroy  Brandon's  note,  despite  the  fact 
that  her  sense  of  dignity  had  been  disturbed  by  it,  but  after 


AN  HONOR  AND  AN  ENEMY  63 

she  had  read  it  slipped  off  into  her  private  room,  read  it 
again  and  put  it  on  her  escritoire.  Soon  she  picked  it  up, 
reread  it,  and,  after  a  little  hesitation,  put  it  in  her  pocket. 
It  remained  in  the  pocket  for  a  moment  or  two,  when  out 
it  came  for  another  perusal,  and  then  she  unfastened  her 
bodice  and  put  it  in  her  bosom.  Mary  had  been  so  intent 
upon  what  she  was  doing  that  she  had  not  seen  Jane,  who 
was  sitting  quietly  in  the  window,  and,  when  she  turned 
and  saw  her,  she  was  so  angry  she  snatched  the  note  from 
her  bosom  and  threw  it  upon  the  floor,  stamping  her  foot 
in  embarrassment  and  rage. 

"How  dare  you  wTatch  me,  hussy  ?"  she  cried.  "You 
lurk  around  as  still  as  the  grave,  and  I  have  to  look  into 
every  nook  and  corner,  wherever  I  go,  or  have  you  spying 
on  me." 

"  I  did  not  spy  upon  you,  Lady  Mary,"  said  Jane  quietly. 

''Don't  answer  me;  I  know  you  did.  I  want  you  to 
be  less  silent  after  this.  Do  you  hear  ?  Cough,  or  sing, 
or  stumble ;  do  something,  anything,  that  I  may  hear  you. " 

Jane  rose,  picked  up  the  note  and  offered  it  to  her  mis 
tress,  who  snatched  it  with  one  hand,  while  she  gave  her  a 
sharp  slap  with  the  other.  Jane  ran  out,  and  Mary,  full  of 
anger  and  shame,  slammed  the  door  and  locked  it.  The 
note,  being  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble,  she  impatiently 
threw  to  the  floor  again,  and  went  over  to  the  window 
bench,  where  she  threw  herself  down  to  pout.  In  the 
course  of  five  minutes  she  turned  her  head  for  one  fleeting 
instant  and  looked  at  the  note,  and  then,  after  a  little  hesi 
tation,  stole  over  to  where  she  had  thrown  it  and  picked  it 
up.  Going  back  to  the  light  at  the  window,  she  held  it  in 
her  hand  a  moment  and  then  read  it  once,  twice,  thrice. 
The  third  time  brought  the  smile,  and  the  note  nestled  in 
the  bosom  again. 


64         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

Jane  did  not  come  off  so  well,  for  her  mistress  did  not 
speak  to  her  until  she  called  her  in  that  evening  to  make 
her  toilet.  By  that  time  Mary  had  forgotten  about  the 
note  in  her  bosom ;  so  when  Jane  began  to  array  her  for 
the  dance,  it  fell  to  the  floor,  whereupon  both  girls  broke 
into  a  laugh,  and  Jane  kissed  Mary's  bare  shoulder,  and 
Mary  kissed  the  top  of  Jane's  head,  and  they  were  friends 
again. 

So  Brandon  accepted  Mary's  invitation  and  went  to 
Mary's  dance,  but  his  going  made  for  him  an  enemy  of 
the  most  powerful  nobleman  in  the  realm,  and  this  was  the 
way  of  it : 

These  parties  of  Mary's  had  been  going  on  once  or 
twice  a  week  during  the  entire  winter  and  spring,  and 
usually  included  the  same  persons.  It  was  a  sort  of  a 
coterie,  whose  members  were  more  or  less  congenial,  and 
most  of  them  very  jealous  of  interlopers.  Strange  as  it 
may  seem,  uninvited  persons  often  attempted  to  force 
themselves  in,  and  all  sorts  of  schemes  and  maneuvers 
were  adopted  to  gain  admission.  To  prevent  this,  two 
guardsmen  with  halberds  were  stationed  at  the  door.  Mod 
esty,  I  might  say,  neither  thrives  nor  is  useful  at  court. 

When  Brandon  presented  himself  at  the  door  his  en 
trance  was  barred,  but  he  quickly  pushed  aside  the  hal 
berds  and  entered.  The  Duke  of  Buckingham,  a  proud, 
self-important  individual,  was  standing  near  the  door  and 
saw  it  all.  Now  Buckingham  was  one  of  those  unfor 
tunate  persons  who  never  lose  an  opportunity  to  make  a 
mistake,  and  being  anxious  to  display  his  zeal  on  behalf  of 
the  princess  stepped  up  to  prevent  Brandon's  entrance. 

"Sir,  you  will  have  to  move  out  of  this,"  he  said  pom 
pously.  "You  are  not  at  a  jousting  bout.  You  have  made 
a  mistake  and  have  come  to  the  wrong  place." 


"MY  LORD  HAS  DROPPED 
HIS  SU'ORD." 


AN  HONOR  AND  AN  ENEMY  65 

"My  Lord  of  Buckingham  is  pleased  to  make  rather 
more  of  an  ass  of  himself  than  usual  this  evening,"  replied 
Brandon  with  a  smile,  as  he  started  across  the  room  to 
Mary,  whose  eye  he  had  caught.  She  had  seen  and  heard 
it  all,  but  in  place  of  coming  to  his  relief  stood  there  laugh 
ing  to  herself.  At  this  Buckingham  grew  furious  and 
ran  around  ahead  of  Brandon,  valiantly  drawing  his 
sword. 

"Now,  by  heaven!  fellow,  make  but  another  step  and 
I  will  run  you  through/'  he  said. 

I  saw  it  all,  but  could  hardly  realize  what  was  going  on, 
it  came  so  quickly  and  was  over  so  soon.  Like  a  flash 
Brandon's  sword  was  out  of  its  sheath,  and  Buckingham's 
blade  was  flying  toward  the  ceiling.  Brandon's  sword 
was  sheathed  again  so  quickly  that  one  could  hardly  be 
lieve  it  had  been  out  at  all,  and,  picking  up  Buckingham's 
he  said  with  a  half-smothered  laugh : 

"My  lord  has  dropped  his  sword."  He  then  broke  its 
point  with  his  heel  against  the  hard  floor,  saying:  "I 
will  dull  the  point,  lest  my  lord,  being  unaccustomed  to 
its  use,  wound  himself.''  This  brought  peals  of  laughter 
from  everybody,  including  the  king.  Mary  laughed  also, 
but,  as  Brandon  was  handing  Buckingham  his  blade,  came 
up  and  demanded : 

"My  lord,  is  this  the  way  you  take  it  upon  yourself  to 
receive  my  guests?  Who  appointed  you,  let  me  ask,  to 
guard  my  door?  We  shall  have  to  omit  your  name  from 
our  next  list,  unless  you  take  a  few  lessons  in  good  man 
ners."  This  was  striking  him  hard,  and  the  quality  of  the 
man  will  at  once  appear  plain  to  you  when  I  say  that  he 
had  often  received  worse  treatment,  but  clung  to  the  girl's 
skirts  all  the  more  tenaciously.  Turning  to  Brandon  the 
princess  said: 
4 


66        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

"Master  Brandon,  I  am  right  glad  to  see  you,  and  re 
gret  exceedingly  that  our  friend  of  Buckingham  should  so 
thirst  for  your  blood."  She  then  led  him  to  the  king  and 
queen,  to  whom  he  made  his  bow,  and  the  pair  continued 
their  walk  about  the  room.  Mary  again  alluded  to  the 
skirmish  at  the  door,  and  said  laughingly : 

"I  would  have  come  to  your  help,  but  I  knew  you  were 
amply  able  to  take  care  of  yourself.  I  was  sure  you  would 
worst  the  duke  in  some  way.  It  was  better  than  a  mum 
mery,  and  I  was  glad  to  see  it.  I  do  not  like  him." 

The  king  did  not  open  these  private  balls,  as  he  was 
supposed,  at  least,  not  to  be  their  patron,  and  the  queen, 
who  was  considerably  older  than  Henry,  was  averse  to 
such  things.  So  the  princess  opened  her  own  balls,  danc 
ing  for  a  few  minutes  with  the  floor  entirely  to  herself  and 
partner.  It  wras  the  honor  of  the  evening  to  open  the  ball 
with  her,  and  quite  curious  to  see  how  men  put  themselves 
in  her  way  and  stood  so  as  to  be  easily  observed  and  per 
chance  chosen.  Brandon,  after  leaving  Mary,  had  drifted 
into  a  corner  of  the  room  back  of  a  group  of  people,  and 
was  talking  to  Wolsey — who  was  always  very  friendly  to 
him — and  to  Master  Cavendish,  a  quaint,  quiet,  easy  little 
man,  full  of  learning  and  kindness,  and  a  warm  friend  of 
the  Princess  Mary. 

It  was  time  to  open  the  ball,  and,  from  my  place  in 
the  musicians'  gallery,  I  could  see  Mary  moving  about 
among  the  guests,  evidently  looking  for  a  partner,  while 
the  men  resorted  to  some  very  transparent  and  amusing 
expedients  to  attract  her  attention.  The  princess,  however, 
took  none  of  the  bidders,  and  soon,  I  noticed,  she  espied 
Brandon  standing  in  the  corner  with  his  back  toward  her. 

Something  told  me  she  was  going  to  ask  him  to  open  the 
dance,  and  I  regretted  jt,  because  I  knew  it  would  set  every 


AN  HONOR  AND  AN  ENEMY  67 

nobleman  in  the  house  against  him,  they  being  very  jealous 
of  the  ''low-born  favorites,''  as  they  called  the  untitled 
friends  of  royalty.  Sure  enough,  I  was  right.  Mary  at 
once  began  to  make  her  way  over  to  the  corner,  and  I 
heard  her  say:  "Master  Brandon,  will  you  dance  with 
me?" 

It  was  done  prettily.  The  whole  girl  changed  as  soon 
as  she  found  herself  in  front  of  him.  In  place  of  the  old- 
time  confidence,  strongly  tinged  with  arrogance,  she  was 
almost  shy,  and  blushed  and  stammered  writh  quick  coming 
breath,  like  a  burgher  maid  before  her  new—found  gallant. 
At  once  the  courtiers  made  way  for  her,  and  out  she 
walked,  leading  Brandon  by  the  hand.  Upon  her  lips  and 
in  her  eyes  was  a  rare  triumphant  smile,  as  if  to  say : 

"Look  at  this  handsome  new  trophy  of  my  bo\v  and 
spear." 

I  was  surprised  and  alarmed  when  Mary  chose  Bran 
don,  but  when  I  turned  to  the  musicians  to  direct  their 
play,  imagine,  if  you  can,  my  surprise  when  the  leader 
said: 

"Master,  we  have  our  orders  for  the  first  dance  from 
the  princess." 

Imagine,  also,  if  you  can,  my  double  surprise  and  alarm, 
nay,  almost  my  terror,  when  the  band  struck  up  Jane's 
"Sailor  Lass."  I  saw  the  look  of  surprise  and  inquiry 
which  Brandon  gave  Alary,  standing  there  demurely  by 
his  side,  when  he  first  heard  the  music,  and  I  heard  her 
nervous  little  laugh  as  she  nodded  her  head,  "Yes,"  and 
stepped  closer  to  him  to  take  position  for  the  dance.  The 
next  moment  she  was  in  Brandon's  arms,  flying  like  a 
sylph  about  the  room.  A  buzz  of  astonishment  and  de 
light  greeted  them  before  they  were  half  way  around,  and 
then  a  great  clapping  of  hands,  in  which  the  king  himself 


68        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

joined.  It  was  a  lovely  sight,  although,  I  think,  a  graceful 
woman  is  more  beautiful  in  La  Galliard  than  any  other 
dance,  or,  in  fact,  any  other  situation  in  which  she  can 
place  herself. 

After  a  little  time  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Kent,  first 
lady  in  waiting  to  the  queen,  presented  herself  at  the  musi 
cians'  gallery  and  said  that  her  majesty  had  ordered  the 
music  stopped,  and  the  musicians,  of  course,  ceased  play 
ing  at  once.  Mary  thereupon  turned  quickly  to  me : 

"Master,  are  our  musicians  weary  that  they  stop  before 
we  are  through?" 

The  queen  answered  for  me  in  a  high-voiced  Spanish 
accent :  "I  ordered  the  music  stopped ;  I  will  not  permit 
such  an  indecent  exhibition  to  go  on  longer." 

Fire  sprang  to  Mary's  eyes  and  she  exclaimed:  "If 
your  majesty  does  not  like  the  way  we  do  and  dance  at 
my  balls  you  can  retire  as  soon  as  you  see  fit.  Your  face 
is  a  kill-mirth  anyway."  It  never  took  long  to  rouse  her 
ladyship. 

The  queen  turned  to  Henry,  who  was  laughing,  and  an 
grily  demanded : 

"Will  your  majesty  permit  me  to  be  thus  insulted  in 
your  very  presence?" 

"You  got  yourself  into  it ;  get  out  of  it  as  best  you  can. 
I  have  often  told  you  to  let  her  alone;  she  has  sharp 
claws."  The  king  was  really  tired  of  Catherine's  sour 
frown  before  he  married  her.  It  was  her  dower  of  Span 
ish  gold  that  brought  her  a  second  Tudor  husband. 

"Shall  I  not  have  what  music  and  dances  I  want  at  my 
own  balls  ?"  asked  the  princess. 

"That  you  shall,  sister  mine ;  that  you  shall,"  answered 
the  king.  "Go  on  master,  and  if  the  girl  likes  to  dance 
that  way,  in  God's  name  let  her  have  her  wish.  It  will 


AN  HONOI    AND  AN  ENEMY  69 

never  hurt  her ;  we  will  learn  it  ourself,  and  will  wear  the 
ladies  out  a-dancing." 

After  Mary  had  finished  the  opening  dance  there  was  a 
great  demand  for  instruction.  The  king  asked  Brandon  to 
teach  him  the  steps,  which  he  soon  learned  to  perform 
with  a  grace  perhaps  equaled  by  no  living  creature  other 
than  a  fat  brown  bear.  The  ladies  were  at  first  a  little 
shy  and  inclined  to  stand  at  arm's  length,  but  Alary  had 
set  the  fashion  and  the  others  soon  followed.  I  had  taken 
a  fiddler  to  my  room  and  had  learned  the  dance  from 
Brandon;  and  was  able  to  teach  it  also,  though  I  lacked 
practice  to  make  my  step  perfect.  The  princess  had  needed 
no  practice,  but  had  danced  beautifully  from  the  first,  her 
strong  young  limbs  and  supple  body  taking  as  naturally 
to  anything  requiring  grace  of  movement  as  a  cygnet  to 
water. 

This,  thought  I,  is  my  opportunity  to  teach  Jane  the  new 
dance.  I  wanted  to  go  to  her  first,  but  was  afraid,  or  for 
some  reason  did  not,  and  took  several  other  ladies  as  they 
came.  After  I  had  shown  the  step  to  them  I  sought  out 
my  sweetheart.  Jane  was  not  a  prude,  but  I  honestly  be 
lieve  she  was  the  most  provoking  girl  that  ever  lived.  I 
never  had  succeeded  in  holding  her  hand  even  the  smallest 
part  of  an  instant,  and  yet  I  was  sure  she  liked  me  very 
much ;  almost  sure  she  loved  me.  She  feared  I  might  un 
hinge  it  and  carry  it  away,  or  something  of  that  sort,  I 
suppose.  When  I  went  up  and  asked  her  to  let  me  teach 
her  the  new  dance,  she  said : 

"I  thank  you,  Edwin ;  but  there  are  others  who  are 
more  anxious  to  learn  than  I,  and  you  had  better  teach 
them  first." 

"But  I  want  to  teach  you.  When  I  wish  to  teach  them 
I  will  go  to  them." 


70        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

"You  did  go  to  several  others  before  you  thought  of 
coming  to  me,"  answered  Jane,  pretending  to  be  piqued. 
Now  that  was  the  unkindest  thing  I  ever  knew  a  girl  to  do 
— refuse  me  what  she  knew  I  so  wanted,  and  then  put  the 
refusal  on  the  pretended  ground  that  I  did  not  care  much 
about  it.  I  so  told  her,  and  she  saw  she  had  carried  things 
too  far,  and  that  I  was  growing  angry  in  earnest.  She 
then  made  another  false,  though  somewhat  flattering,  ex 
cuse: 

"I  could  not  bear  to  go  through  that  dance  before  so 
large  a  company.  I  should  not  object  so  much  if  no  one 
else  could  see — that  is,  with  you — Edwin."  "Edwin!" 
Oh!  so  soft  and  sweet!  The  little  jade!  to  think  that 
she  could  hoodwink  me  so  easily,  and  talk  me  into  a  good 
humor  with  her  soft,  purring  "Edwin."  I  saw  through 
it  all  quickly  enough,  and  left  her  without  another  word. 
In  a  few  minutes  she  went  into  an  adjoining  room  where  I 
knew  she  was  alone.  The  door  was  open  and  the  music 
could  be  heard  there,  so  I  followed. 

"My  lady,  there  is  no  one  to  see  us  here ;  I  can  teach 
you  now,  if  you  wish,"  said  I. 

She  saw  she  was  cornered,  and  replied,  with  a  toss  of 
her  saucy  little  head:  "But  what  if  I  do  not  wish?" 

Now  this  was  more  than  I  could  endure  with  patience, 
so  I  answered :  "My  young  lady,  you  shall  ask  me  before 
I  teach  you." 

"There  are  others  who  can  dance  it  much  better  than 
you,"  she  returned,  without  looking  at  me. 

"If  you  allow  another  to  teach  you  that  dance,"  I  re 
sponded,  "you  will  have  seen  the  last  of  me."  She  had 
made  me  angry,  and  I  did  not  speak  to  her  for  more  than 
a  week.  When  I  did — but  I  will  tell  you  of  that  later  on. 
There  was  one  thing  about  Jane  and  the  new  step:  so 


AN  HONOR  AND  AN  ENEMY  71 

long  as  she  did  not  know  it,  she  would  not  dance  it  with 
any  other  man,  and  foolish  as  my  feeling  may  have  been, 
I  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  her  doing  it.  I  resolved 
that  if  she  permitted  another  man  to  teach  her  that  dance 
it  would  be  all  over  between  us.  It  was  a  terrible  thought 
to  me,  that  of  losing  Jane,  and  it  came  like  a  very  stroke 
upon  my  heart.  I  would  think  of  her  sweet  little  form,  so 
compact  and  graceful ;  of  her  gray,  calm  eyes,  so  full 
of  purity  and  mischief ;  of  her  fair  oval  face,  almost  pale, 
and  wonder  if  I  could  live  without  the  hope  of  her.  I 
determined,  however,  that  if  she  learned  the  new  dance 
with  any  other  man  I  would  throw  that  hope  to  the  winds, 
whether  I  lived  or  died.  St.  George !  I  believe  I  should 
have  died. 

The  evening  was  devoted  to  learning  the  new  dance, 
and  I  saw  Mary  busily  engaged  imparting  information 
among  the  ladies.  As  we  were  about  to  disperse  I  heard 
her  say  to  Brandon : 

"You  have  greatly  pleased  the  king  by  bringing  him  a 
new  amusement.  He  asked  me  where  I  learned  it,  and  I 
told  him  you  had  taught  it  to  Caskoden,  and  that  I  had  it 
from  him.  I  told  Caskoden  so  that  he  can  tell  the  same 
story." 

"Oh!  but  that  is  not  true.  Don't  you  think  you 
should  have  told  him  the  truth,  or  have  evaded  it  in  some 
way  ?"  asked  Brandon,  who  was  really  a  great  lover  of  the 
truth,  "when  possible,"  but  who,  I  fear  on  this  occasion, 
wished  to  appear  more  truthful  than  he  really  was.  If  a 
man  is  to  a  woman's  taste,  and  she  is  inclined  to  him,  he 
lays  up  great  stores  in  her  heart  by  making  her  think  him 
good ;  and  shameful  impositions  are  often  practiced  to  this 
end. 

Mary  flushed  a  little  and  answered,  "I  can't  help  it. 


72        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

You  do  not  know.  Had  I  told  Henry  that  we  four  had 
enjoyed  such  a  famous  time  in  my  rooms  he  would  have 
been  very  angry,  and — and — you  might  have  been  the  suf 
ferer." 

"But  might  you  not  have  compromised  matters  by 
going  around  the  truth  some  way,  and  leaving  the  im 
pression  that  others  were  of  the  party  that  evening?" 

That  was  a  mistake,  for  it  gave  Mary  an  opportunity  to 
retaliate :  "The  best  way  to  go  around  the  truth,  as  you 
call  it,  is  by  a  direct  lie.  My  lie  was  no  worse  than  yours. 
But  I  did  not  stop  to  argue  about  such  matters.  There  is 
something  else  I  wished  to  say.  I  want  to  tell  you  that  you 
have  greatly  pleased  the  king  with  the  new  dance.  Now 
teach  him  honor  and  ruff  and  your  fortune  is  made.  He 
has  had  some  Jews  and  Lombards  in  of  late  to  teach  him 
new  games  at  cards,  but  yours  is  worth  all  of  them." 
Then,  somewhat  hastily  and  irrelevantly,  "I  did  not  dance 
the  new  dance  with  any  other  gentleman — but  I  suppose 
you  did  not  notice  it,"  and  she  was  gone  before  he  could 
thank  her. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  RARE  RIDE  TO  WINDSOR 

The  princess  knew  her  royal  brother.  A  man  would 
receive  quicker  reward  for  inventing  an  amusement  or  a 
gaudy  costume  for  the  king  than  by  winning  him  a  battle. 
Later  in  life  the  high  road  to  his  favor  was  in  ridding  him 
of  his  wife  and  helping  him  to  a  new  one — a  dangerous 
way  though,  as  Wolsey  found  to  his  sorrow  when  he  sunk 
his  glory  in  poor  Anne  Boleyn. 

Brandon  took  the  hint  and  managed  to  let  it  be  knowrn 
to  this  play-loving  king  that  he  knew  the  latest  French 
games.  The  French  Due  de  Longueville  had  for  some 
time  been  an  honored  prisoner  to  the  English  court,  held 
as  a  hostage  from  Louis  XII,  but  de  Longueville  was  a 
blockhead,  who  could  not  keep  his  little  black  eyes  off 
our  fair  ladies,  who  hated  him,  long  enough  to  tell  the 
deuce  of  spades  from  the  ace  of  hearts.  So  Brandon  was 
taken  from  his  duties,  such  as  they  were,  and  placed  at 
the  card  table.  This  was  fortunate  at  first ;  for  being  the 
best  player  the  king  always  chose  him  as  his  partner,  and, 
as  in  every  other  game,  the  king  always  won.  If  he  lost 
there  would  soon  be  no  game,  and  the  man  who  won  from 
him  too  frequently  was  in  danger  at  any  moment  of  being 
rated  guilty  of  the  very  highest  sort  of  treason.  I  think 
many  a  man's  fall,  under  Henry  VIII,  was  owing  to  the 
fact  that  he  did  not  always  allow  the  king  to  win  in  some 
trivial  matter  of  game  or  joust.  Under  these  conditions 
everybody  was  anxious  to  be  the  king's  partner.  It  is  true 

(73) 


74        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

he  frequently  forgot  to  divide  his  winnings,  but  his  part 
ner  had  this  advantage,  at  least :  there  was  no  danger  of 
losing.  That  being  the  case,  Brandon's  seat  opposite  the 
king  was  very  likely  to  excite  envy,  and  the  time  soon 
came,  Henry  having  learned  the  play,  when  Brandon  had 
to  face  someone  else,  and  the  seat  was  too  costly  for  a 
man  without  a  treasury.  It  took  but  a  few  days  to  put 
Brandon  hors  de  combat,  financially,  and  he  would  have 
been  in  a  bad  plight  had  not  Wolsey  come  to  his  relief. 
After  that,  he  played  and  paid  the  king  in  his  own  coin. 

This  great  game  of  "honor  and  ruff"  occupied  Henry's 
mind  day  and  night  during  a  fortnight.  He  feasted  upon 
it  to  satiety,  as  he  did  with  everything  else ;  never  having 
learned  not  to  cloy  his  appetite  by  over-feeding.  So  we 
saw  little  of  Brandon  while  the  king's  fever  lasted,  and 
Mary  said  she  wished  she  had  remained  silent  about  the 
cards.  You  see,  she  could  enjoy  this  new  plaything  as 
well  as  her  brother ;  but  the  king,  of  course,  must  be  sat 
isfied  first.  They  both  had  enough  eventually ;  Henry  in 
one  way,  Mary  in  another. 

One  day  the  fancy  struck  the  king  that  he  would  rebuild 
a  certain  chapel  at  Windsor ;  so  he  took  a  number  of  the 
court,  including  Mary,  Jane,  Brandon  and  myself,  and 
went  with  us  up  to  London,  where  we  lodged  over  night 
at  Bridewell  House.  The  next  morning — as  bright  and 
beautiful  a  June  day  as  ever  gladdened  the  heart  of  a  rose 
— we  took  horse  for  Windsor;  a  delightful  seven-league 
ride  over  a  fair  road. 

Mary  and  Jane  traveled  side  by  side,  with  an  occasional 
companion  or  two,  as  the  road  permitted.  I  was  angry 
with  Jane,  as  you  know,  so  did  not  go  near  the  girls ;  and 
Brandon,  without  any  apparent  intention  one  way  or  the 


....,, 


o 

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.  >-: 

fi.  w 

H 

CJ   w 
r-J    >« 


A  RARE  RIDE  TO  WINDSOR  75 

other,  allowed  events  to  adjust  themselves,  and  rode  with 
Cavendish  and  me. 

We  were  perhaps  forty  yards  behind  the  girls,  and  I 
noticed  after  a  time  that  the  Lady  Mary  kept  looking  back 
ward  in  our  direction,  as  if  fearing  rain  from  the  east.  I 
was  in  hopes  that  Jane,  too,  would  fear  the  rain,  but  you 
would  have  sworn  her  neck  was  stiff,  so  straight  ahead  did 
she  keep  her  face.  We  had  ridden  perhaps  three  leagues, 
when  the  princess  stopped  her  horse  and  turned  in  her  sad 
dle.  I  heard  her  voice,  but  did  not  understand  what  she 
said. 

In  a  moment  some  one  called  out :  "Master  Brandon  is 
wanted.''  So  that  gentleman  rode  forward,  and  I  followed 
him.  When  we  came  up  with  the  girls,  Mary  said :  "I 
fear  my  girth  is  loose." 

Brandon  at  once  dismounted  to  tighten  it,  and  the  others 
of  our  immediate  party  began  to  cluster  around. 

Brandon  tried  the  girth. 

"My  lady,  it  is  as  tight  as  the  horse  can  well  bear,"  he 
said. 

"It  is  loose,  I  say,"  insisted  the  princess,  with  a  little 
irritation ;  "the  saddle  feels  like  it.  Try  the  other."  Then 
turning  impatiently  to  the  persons  gathered  around: 
"Does  it  require  all  of  you,  standing  there  like  gaping 
bumpkins,  to  tighten  my  girth  ?  Ride  on  ;  we  can  manage 
this  without  so  much  help."  Upon  this  broad  hint  every 
body  rode  ahead  while  I  held  the  horse  for  Brandon,  who 
went  on  with  his  search  for  the  loose  girth.  While  he  was 
looking  for  it  Alary  leaned  over  her  horse's  neck  and 
asked :  "Were  you  and  Cavendish  settling  all  the  philo 
sophical  points  now  in  dispute,  that  you  found  him  so 
interesting?" 

"Not  all,"  answered  Brandon,  smiling. 


76        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

"You  were  so  absorbed,  I  supposed  it  could  be  nothing 
short  of  that." 

"No,"  replied  Brandon  again.  "But  the  girth  is  not 
loose." 

"Perhaps  I  only  imagined  it,"  returned  Mary  carelessly, 
having  lost  interest  in  the  girth. 

I  looked  toward  Jane,  whose  eyes  were  bright  with  a 
smile,  and  turned  Brandon's  horse  over  to  him.  Jane's 
smile  gradually  broadened  into  a  laugh,  and  she  said: 
"Edwin,  I  fear  my  girth  is  loose  also." 

"As  the  Lady  Mary's  was?"  asked  I,  unable  to  keep  a 
straight  face  any  longer. 

"Yes,"  answered  Jane,  with  a  vigorous  little  nod  of  her 
head,  and  a  peal  of  laughter. 

"Then  drop  back  with  me,"  I  responded. 

The  princess  looked  at  us  with  a  half  smile,  half  frown, 
and  remarked :  "Now  you  doubtless  consider  yourselves 
very  brilliant  and  witty." 

"Yes,"  returned  Jane  maliciously,  nodding  her  head  in 
emphatic  assent,  as  the  princess  and  Brandon  rode  on  be 
fore  us. 

"I  hope  she  is  satisfied  now,"  said  Jane  sotto  voce  to  me. 

"So  you  want  me  to  ride  with  you  ?"  I  replied. 

"Yes,"  nodded  Jane. 

"Why?"  Tasked. 

"Because  I  want  you  to,"  was  the  enlightening  response. 

"Then  why  did  you  not  dance  with  me  the  other  even- 
ing?" 

"Because  I  did  not  want  to." 

"Short  but  comprehensive,"  thought  I,  "but  a  sufficient 
reason  for  a  maiden." 

I  said  nothing,  however,  and  after  a  time  Jane  spoke : 
"The  dance  was  one  thing  and  riding  with  you  is  another. 


A  RARE  RIDE  TO  WINDSOR  J7 

I  did  not  wish  to  dance  with  you,  but  I  do  wish  to  ride 
with  you.  You  are  the  only  gentleman  to  whom  I  would 
have  said  what  I  did  about  my  girth  being  loose.  As  to 
the  newr  dance,  I  do  not  care  to  learn  it  because  I  would 
not  dance  it  with  any  man  but  you,  and  not  even  with 
you — yet."  This  made  me  glad,  and  coming  from  coy, 
modest  Jane  meant  a  great  deal.  It  meant  that  she  cared 
for  me,  and  would,  some  day,  be  mine ;  but  it  also  meant 
that  she  would  take  her  own  time  and  her  own  sweet  way 
in  being  won.  This  was  comforting,  if  not  satisfying,  and 
loosened  my  tongue:  "Jane>  }"ou  know  my  heart  is  full 
of  love  for  you — " 

"Will  the  universe  crumble?"  she  cried  with  the  most 
provoking  little  laugh.  Now  that  sentence  was  my  rock 
ahead,  whenever  I  tried  to  give  Jane  some  idea  of  the  state 
of  my  affections.  It  was  a  part  of  the  speech  which  I 
had  prepared  and  delivered  to  Mary  in  Jane's  hearing,  as 
you  already  know.  I  had  said  to  the  princess:  "The 
universe  will  crumble  and  the  heavens  roll  up  as  a  scroll 
ere  my  love  shall  alter  or  pale."  It  was  a  high-sounding 
sentence,  but  it  was  not  true,  as  I  was  forced  to  admit,  al 
most  with  the  same  breath  that  spoke  it.  Jane  had  heard 
it,  and  had  stored  it  away  in  that  memory  of  hers,  so 
tenacious  in  holding  to  everything  it  should  forget.  It  is 
wonderful  what  a  fund  of  useless  information  some  per 
sons  accumulate  and  cling  to  with  a  persistent  determina 
tion  worthy  of  a  better  cause.  I  thought  Jane  never  would 
forget  that  unfortunate,  abominable  sentence  spoken  so 
grandiloquently  to  Mary.  I  wonder  what  she  would  have 
thought  had  she  known  that  I  had  said  substantially  the 
same  thing  to  a  dozen  others.  I  never  should  have  won 
her  in  that  case..  She  does  not  know  it  yet,  and  never 
shall  if  I  can  prevent.  Although  dear  Jane  is  old  now, 


78        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

and  the  roses  on  her  cheeks  have  long  since  paled,  her 
gray  eyes  are  still  there,  with  their  mischievous  little  twin 
kle  upon  occasion,  and — in  fact,  Jane  can  be  as  provoking 
as  ever  when  she  takes  the  fancy,  for  she  is  as  sure  of  my 
affection  now  as  upon  the  morning  of  that  rare  ride  to 
Windsor.  Aye,  surer,  since  she  knows  that  in  all  these 
years  it  has  changed  only  to  grow  greater  and  stronger  and 
truer  in  the  fructifying  light  of  her  sweet  face,  and  the 
nurturing  warmth  of  her  pure  soul.  What  a  blessed  thing 
it  is  for  a  man  to  love  his  wife  and  be  satisfied  with  her, 
and  to  think  her  the  fairest  being  in  all  the  world ;  and 
how  thrice  happy  is  he  who  can  stretch  out  the  sweetest 
season  of  his  existence,  the  days  of  triumphant  courtship, 
through  the  flying  years  of  all  his  life,  and  then  lie  down 
to  die  in  the  quieted  ecstacy  of  a  first  love. 

So  Jane  halted  my  effort  to  pour  out  my  heart,  as  she 
always  did. 

"There  is  something  that  greatly  troubles  me,"  she  said. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked  in  some  concern. 

"My  mistress,"  she  answered,  nodding  in  the  direction 
of  the  two  riding  ahead  of  us.  "I  never  saw  her  so  much 
interested  in  any  one  as  she  is  in  your  friend,  Master 
Brandon.  Not  that  she  is  really  in  love  with  him  as  yet 
perhaps,  but  I  fear  it  is  coming  and  dread  to  see  it.  She 
has  never  been  compelled  to  forego  anything  she  wanted, 
and  her  desires  are  absolutely  imperative.  They  drive 
her,  and  she  is  helpless  against  them.  "She" would  not  and 
could  not  make  the  smallest  effort  to  overcome  them.  I 
think  it  never  occurred  to  her  that  such  a  thing  could  be 
necessary;  everything  she  wants  she  naturally  thinks  is 
hers  by  divine  right.  There  has  been  no  great  need  of 
such  an  effort  until  now,  but  your  friend  Brandon  pre 
sents  it.  I  wish  he  were  at  the  other  side  of  the  world.  I 


A  RARE  RIDE  TO  WINDSOR  79 

think  she  feels  that  she  ought  to  keep  away  from  him  be 
fore  it  is  too  late,  both  for  his  sake  and  her  own,  but  she 
is  powerless  to  deny  herself  the  pleasure  of  being  with 
him,  and  I  do  not  know  what  is  to  come  of  it  all.  That 
incident  of  the  loose  girth  is  an  illustration.  Did  you 
ever  know  anything  so  bold  and  transparent?  Any  one 
could  see  through  it,  and  the  worst  of  all  is  she  seems  not 
to  care  if  every  one  does  see.  Now  look  at  them  ahead  of 
us !  Xo  girl  is  so  happy  riding  beside  a  man  unless  she 
is  interested  in  him.  She  was  dull  enough  until  he  joined 
her.  He  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  come,  so  she  resorted 
to  the  flimsy  excuse  of  the  loose  girth  to  bring  him.  I  am 
surprised  that  she  even  sought  the  shadow  of  an  excuse, 
but  did  not  order  him  forward  without  any  pretense  of 
one.  Oh !  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  It  troubles  me 
greatly.  Do  you  know  the  state  of  his  feelings  ?" 

"Xo/*  I  answered,  '"'but  I  think  he  is  heart-whole,  or 
nearly  so.  He  told  me  he  was  not  fool  enough  to  fall  in 
love  \\ith  the  king's  sister,  and  I  really  believe  he  will 
keep  his  heart  and  head,  even  at  that  dizzy  height.  He  is 
a  cool  fellow,  if  there  ever  was  one/' 

''He  certainly  is  different  from  other  men."  returned 
Jane.  "I  think  he  has  never  spoken  a  word  of  love  to 
her.  He  has  said  some  pretty  things,  which  she  has  re 
peated  to  me:  has  moralized  to  some  extent,  and  has 
actually  told  her  of  some  of  her  faults.  I  should  like  to 
see  anyone  else  take  that  liberty.  She  seems  to  like  it  from 
him,  and  says  he  inspires  her  with  higher,  better  motives 
and  a  yearning  to  be  good ;  but  I  am  sure  he  has  made  no 
love  to  her/' 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  better  if  he  did.  It  might  cure 
her,"  I  replied. 

"Oh  !  no  !  no !  not  now  ;   at  first,  perhaps,  but  not  now. 


80        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

What  I  fear  is  that  if  he  remains  silent  much  longer  she 
will  take  matters  in  hand  and  speak  herself.  I  don't  like  to 
say  that — it  doesn't  sound  well — but  she  is  a  princess,  and 
it  would  be  different  than  with  an  ordinary  girl ;  she  might 
have  to  speak  first,  or  there  might  be  no  speaking  from 
one  who  thought  his  position  too  far  beneath  hers.  She 
whose  smallest  desires  drive  her  so,  will  never  forego  so 
great  a  thing  as  the  man  she  loves  only  for  the  want  of  a 
word  or  two." 

Then  it  was  that  Jane  told  me  of  the  scene  with  the  note, 
of  the  little  whispered  confidence  upon  their  pillows,  and  a 
hundred  other  straws  that  showed  only  too  plainly  which 
way  this  worst  of  ill  wTinds  was  blowing — with  no  good  in 
it  for  any  one.  Now  who  could  have  foretold  this  ?  It  was 
easy  enough  to  prophesy  that  Brandon  would  learn  to  love 
Mary,  excite  a  passing  interest,  and  come  off  crestfallen, 
as  all  other  men  had  done.  But  that  Mary  should  love 
Brandon,  and  he  remain  heart-whole,  was  an  unlooked-for 
event — one  that  would  hardly  have  been  predicted  by  the 
shrewdest  prophet. 

What  Lady  Jane  said  troubled  me  greatly,  as  it  was  but 
the  confirmation  of  my  own  fears.  Her  opportunity  to 
know  was  far  better  than  mine,  but  I  had  seen  enough  to 
set  me  thinking. 

Brandon,  I  believe,  saw  nothing  of  Mary's  growing  par 
tiality  at  all.  He  could  not  help  but  find  her  wonderfully 
attractive  and  interesting,  and  perhaps  it  needed  only  the 
thought  that  she  might  love  him,  to  kindle  a  flame  in  his 
own  breast.  But  at  the  time  of  our  ride  to  Windsor, 
Charles  Brandon  was  not  in  love  with  Mary  Tudor,  how 
ever  near  it  he  may  unconsciously  have  been.  He  would 
whistle  and  sing,  and  was  as  light-hearted  as  a  lark — I 
mean  when  away  from  the  princess  as  well  as  with  her — - 


A  RARE  RIDE  TO  WINDSOR  81 

a  mood  that  does  not  go  with  a  heart  full  of  heavy  love,  of 
impossible,  fatal  love,  such  as  his  would  have  been  for  the 
first  princess  of  the  first  blood  royal  of  the  world. 

But  another's  trouble  could  not  dim  the  sunlight  in  my 
own  heart,  and  that  ride  to  Windsor  was  the  happiest  day 
of  my  life  up  to  that  time.  Even  Jane  threw  off  the  little 
cloud  our  forebodings  had  gathered,  and  chatted  and 
laughed  like  the  creature  of  joy  and  gladness  she  was. 
Now  and  then  her  heart  would  well  up  so  full  of  the  sun 
light  and  the  flowers,  and  the  birds  in  the  hedge,  aye,  and 
of  the  contagious  love  in  my  heart,  too,  that  it  poured 
itself  forth  in  a  spontaneous  little  song  which  thrills  me 
even  now. 

Ahead  of  us  were  the  princess  and  Brandon.  Every 
itow  and  then  her  voice  came  back  to  us  in  a  stave  of  a 
song,  and  her  laughter,  rich  and  low,  wafted  on  the  wings 
of  the  soft  south  wind,  made  the  glad  birds  hush  to  catch 
its  silvery  note.  It  seemed  that  the  wild  flowers  had  taken 
on  their  brightest  hue,  the  trees  their  richest  Sabbath-day 
green,  and  the  sun  his  softest  radiance,  only  to  gladden  the 
heart  of  Mary  that  they  might  hear  her  laugh.  The  laugh 
would  have  come  quite  as  joyously  had  the  flowers  been 
dead  and  the  sun  black,  for  flowers  and  sunlight,  south 
wind,  green  pastures  and  verdant  hills,  all  were  riding  by 
her  side.  Poor  Mary !  Her  days  of  laughter  were  num 
bered. 

We  all  rode  merrily  on  to  Windsor,  and  when  we  ar 
rived  it  wras  curious  to  see  the  great  nobles,  Buckingham, 
both  the  Howards,  Seymour  and  a  dozen  others  stand  back 
for  plain  Charles  Brandon  to  dismount  the  fairest  maiden 
and  the  most  renowned  princess  in  Christendom.  It  was 
done  most  gracefully.  She  was  but  a  trifle  to  his  strong 
arms,  and  he  lifted  her  to  the  sod  as  gently  as  if  she  were 
I 


82        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

a  child.  The  nobles  envied  Brandon  his  evident  favor 
with  this  unattainable  Mary  and  hated  him  accordingly, 
but  they  kept  their  thoughts  to  themselves  for  two  rea 
sons  :  First,  they  knew  not  to  what  degree  the  king's 
favor,  already  marked,  with  the  help  of  the  princess  might 
\  carry  him ;  and  second,  they  did  not  care  to  have  a  mis- 
i  understanding  with  the  man  who  had  cut  out  Adam  Jud- 
son's  eyes. 

We  remained  at  Windsor  four  or  five  days,  during 
which  time  the  king  made  several  knights.  Brandon 
would  probably  have  been  one  of  them,  as  everybody  ex 
pected,  had  not  Buckingham  related  to  Henry  the  episode 
of  the  loose  girth,  and  adroitly  poisoned  his  mind  as  to 
Mary's  partiality.  At  this  the  king  began  to  cast  a  jealous 
eye  on  Brandon.  His  sister  was  his  chief  diplomatic  re 
source,  and  when  she  loved  or  married,  it  should  be  for 
Henry's  benefit,  regardless  of  all  else. 

Brandon  and  the  Lady  Mary  saw  a  great  deal  of  each 
other  during  this  little  stay  at  Windsor,  as  she  always  had 
some  plan  to  bring  about  a  meeting,  and  although  very 
delightful  to  him,  it  cost  him  much  in  royal  favor.  He 
could  not  trace  this  effect  to  its  proper  cause  and  it  trou 
bled  him.  I  could  have  told  him  the  reason  in  two  words, 
but  I  feared  to  put  into  his  mind  the  thought  that  the 
princess  might  learn  to  love  him.  As  to  the  king,  he  would 
not  have  cared  if  Brandon  or  every  other  man,  for  that 
matter,  should  go  stark  mad  for  love  of  his  sister,  but 
when  she  began  to  show  a  preference  he  grew  interested, 
and  it  was  apt  sooner  or  later  to  go  hard  with  the  fortu 
nate  one.  When  we  went  back  to  Greenwich  Brandon  was 
sent  on  a  day  ahead. 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  SWEETNESS 

After  we  had  all  returned  to  Greenwich  the  princess 
and  Brandon  were  together  frequently.  Upon  several  oc 
casions  he  was  invited,  with  others,  to  her  parlor  for  card 
playing.  But  we  spent  two  evenings,  with  only  four  of 
us  present,  prior  to  the  disastrous  events  which  changed 
everything,  and  of  which  I  am  soon  to  tell  you.  During 
these  two  evenings  the  "Sailor  Lass"  was  in  constant 
demand. 

This  pair,  who  should  have  remained  apart,  met  con 
stantly  in  and  about  the  palace,  and  every  glance  added 
fuel  to  the  flame.  Part  of  the  time  it  was  the  princess 
with  her  troublesome  dignity,  and  part  of  the  time  it  was 
Mary — simply  girl.  Notwithstanding  these  haughty 
moods,  anyone  with  half  an  eye  could  see  that  the  princess 
was  gradually  succumbing  to  the  budding  woman ;  that 
Brandon's  stronger  nature  had  dominated  her  with  that 
half  fear  which  every  woman  feels  who  loves  a  strong 
man — stronger  than  herself. 

One  day  the  rumor  spread  through  the  court  that  the 
old  French  king,  Louis  XII,  whose  wife,  Anne  of  Brit 
tany,  had  just  died,  had  asked  Mary's  hand  in  marriage. 
It  was  this,  probably,  which  opened  Brandon's  eyes  to 
the  fact  that  he  had  been  playing  with  the  very  worst  sort 
of  fire ;  and  first  made  him  see  that  in  spite  of  himself,  and 
almost  without  his  knowledge,  the  girl  had  grown  won 
derfully  sweet  and  dear  to  him.  He  now  saw  his  danger. 

(83) 


84        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

and  struggled  to  keep  himself  beyond  the  spell  of  her 
perilous  glances  and  siren  song.  This  modern  Ulysses 
made  a  masterful  effort,  but  alas!  had  no  ships  to  carry 
him  away,  and  no  wax  with  which  to  fill  his  ears.  Wax  is 
a  good  thing,  and  no  one  should  enter  the  Siren  country 
without  it.  Ships,  too,  are  good,  with  masts  to  tie  one's 
self  to,  and  sails  and  rudder,  and  a  gust  of  wind  to  waft 
one  quickly  past  the  island.  In  fact,  one  can  not  take  too 
many  precautions  when  in  those  enchanted  waters. 

Matters  began  to  look  dark  to  me.  Love  had  dawned 
in  Mary's  breast,  that  was  sure,  and  for  the  first  time,  with 
all  its  fierce  sweetness.  Not  that  it  had  reached  its  noon, 
or  anything  like  it.  In  truth,  it  might,  I  hoped,  die  in 
the  dawning,  for  my  lady  was  as  capricious  as  a  May  day ; 
but  it  was  love — love  as  plain  as  the  sun  at  rising.  She 
sought  Brandon  upon  all  occasions,  and  made  opportuni 
ties  to  meet  him ;  not  openly — at  any  rate,  not  with  Bran 
don's  knowledge,  nor  with  any  connivance  on  his  part,  but 
apparently  caring  little  what  he  or  any  one  else  might  see. 
Love  lying  in  her  heart  had  made  her  a  little  more  shy 
than  formerly  in  seeking  him,  but  her  straightforward  way 
of  taking  whatever  she  wanted  made  her  transparent  lit 
tle  attempts  at  concealment  very  pathetic. 

As  for  Brandon,  the  shaft  had  entered  his  heart,  too, 
poor  fellow,  as  surely  as  love  had  dawned  in  Mary's,  but 
there  was  this  difference:  With  our  princess — at  least  I 
so  thought  at  the  time — the  sun  of  love  might  dawn  and 
lift  itself  to  mid-heaven  and  glow  with  the  fervent  ardor  of 
high  noon — for  her  blood  was  warm  with  the  spark  of  her 
grandfather's  fire — and  then  sink  into  the  west  and  make 
room  for  another  sun  to-morrow.  But  with  Brandon's 
stronger  nature  the  sun  would  go  till  noon  and  there 
would  burn  for  life.  The  sun,  however,  had  not  reached 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  SWEETNESS  85 

its  noon  with  Brandon,  either;  since  he  had  set  his  brain 
against  his  heart,  and  had  done  what  he  could  to  stay  the 
all-consuming  orb  at  its  dawning.  He  knew  the  hopeless 
misery  such  a  passion  would  bring  him,  and  helped  the 
good  Lord,  in  so  far  as  he  could,  to  answer  his  prayer, 
and  lead  him  not  into  temptation.  As  soon  as  he  saw 
the  truth,  he  avoided  Mary  as  much  as  possible. 

As  I  said,  we  had  spent  several  evenings  with  Mary 
after  we  came  home  from  Windsor,  at  all  of  which  her 
preference  was  shown  in  every  movement.  Some  women 
are  so  expressive  under  strong  emotion  that  every  gesture, 
a  turn  of  the  head,  a  glance  of  the  eyes,  the  lifting  of  a 
hand  or  poise  of  the  body,  speaks  with  a  tongue  of  elo 
quence,  and  such  was  Mary.  Her  eyes  would  glow  with 
a  soft  fire  when  they  rested  upon  him,  and  her  whole  per 
son  told  all  too  plainly  what,  in  truth,  it  seemed  she  did 
not  care  to  hide.  When  others  were  present  she  would 
restrain  herself  somewhat,  but  with  only  Jane  and  myself, 
she  could  hardly  maintain  a  seemly  reserve.  During  all 
this  time  Brandon  remained  cool  and  really  seemed  un 
conscious  of  his  wonderful  attraction  for  her.  It  is  hard 
to  understand  why  he  did  not  see  it,  but  I  really  believe  he 
did  not.  Although  he  was  quite  at  ease  in  her  presence, 
too  much  so,  Mary  sometimes  thought,  and  strangely 
enough  sometimes  told  him  in  a  fit  of  short-lived,  quickly 
repented  anger  that  always  set  him  laughing,  yet  there  was 
never  a  word  or  gesture  that  could  hint  of  undue  famil 
iarity.  It  would  probably  have  met  a  rebuff  from  the 
princess  part  of  her ;  for  with  a  perversity,  both  royal  and 
feminine,  she  wanted  all  the  freedom  for  herself.  In 
short,  like  any  other  woman,  she  would  rather  love  than 
be  loved,  that  is,  until  surrender  day  should  come;  then 
of  course. . 


86        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

After  these  last  two  meetings,  although  the  invitations 
came  frequently,  none  was  accepted.  Brandon  had  con 
trived  to  have  his  duties,  ostensibly  at  least,  occupy  his 
evenings,  and  did  honestly  what  his  judgment  told  him 
was  the  one  thing  to  do ;  that  is,  remained  away  from  a 
fire  that  could  give  no  genial  warmth,  but  was  sure  to  burn 
him  to  the  quick.  I  saw  this  only  too  plainly,  but  never  a 
word  of  it  was  spoken  between  us. 

The  more  I  saw  of  this  man,  the  more  I  respected  him, 
and  this  curbing  of  his  affections  added  to  my  already  high 
esteem.  The  effort  was  doubly  wise  in  Brandon's  case. 
Should  love  with  his  intense  nature  reach  its  height,  his 
recklessness  would  in  turn  assert  itself,  and  these  two 
would  inevitably  try  to  span  the  impassable  gulf  between 
them,  when  Brandon,  at  least,  would  go  down  in  the  at 
tempt.  His  trouble,  however,  did  not  make  a  mope  of  him, 
and  he  retained  a  great  deal  of  his  brightness  and  sparkle 
undimmed  by  what  must  have  been  an  ache  in  his  heart. 
Though  he  tried,  without  making  it  too  marked,  to  see  as 
little  of  Mary  as  possible,  their  meeting  once  in  a  while 
could  not  be  avoided,  especially  when  one  of  them  was 
always  seeking  to  bring  it  about.  After  a  time,  Mary 
began  to  suspect  his  attempts  to  avoid  her,  and  she  grew 
cold  and  distant  through  pique.  Her  manner,  however, 
had  no  effect  upon  Brandon,  who  did  not,  or  at  least  ap 
peared  not,  to  notice  it.  This  the  girl  could  not  endure, 
and  lacking  strength  to  resist  her  heart,  soon  returned  to 
the  attack. 

Mary  had  not  seen  Brandon  for  nearly  two  weeks,  and 
was  growing  anxious,  when  one  day  she  and  Jane  met  him 
in  a  forest  walk  near  the  river.  Brandon  was  sauntering 
along  reading  when  they  overtook  him.  Jane  told  me 
afterwards  that  Mary's  conduct  upon  coming  up  to  him 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  SWEETNESS  87 

was  pretty  and  curious  beyond  the  naming.  At  first  she 
was  inclined  to  be  distant,  and  say  cutting  things,  but 
when  Brandon  began  to  grow  restive  under  them  and 
showed  signs  of  turning  back,  she  changed  front  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye  and  was  all  sweetness.  She  laughed 
and  smiled  and  dimpled,  as  only  she  could,  and  was  full  of 
bright  glances  and  gracious  words. 

She  tried  a  hundred  little  schemes  to  get  him  to  herself 
for  a  moment — the  hunting  of  a  wild  flower  or  a  four- 
leaved  clover,  or  the  exploration  of  some  little  nook  in  the 
forest  toward  which  she  would  lead  him — but  Jane  did  not 
at  first  take  the  hint  and  kept  close  at  her  heels.  Mary's 
impulsive  nature  was  not  much  given  to  hinting — she 
usually  nodded  and  most  emphatically  at  that — so  after  a 
few  failures  to  rid  herself  of  her  waiting  lady  she  said  im 
patiently:  "Jane,  in  the  name  of  heaven  don't  keep  so 
close  to  us.  You  won't  move  out  of  reach  of  my  hand,  and 
you  know  how  often  it  inclines  to  box  your  ears." 

Jane  did  know,  I  am  sorry  for  Mary's  sake  to  say,  how 
often  the  fair  hand  was  given  to  such  spasms  ;  so  with  this 
emphasized  hint  she  walked  on  ahead,  half  sulky  at  the 
indignity  put  upon  her,  and  half  amused  at  her  whimsical 
mistress. 

Mary  lost  no  time,  but  began  the  attack  at  once. 

"Now,  sir,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  the  truth ;  why  do  you 
refuse  my  invitations  and  so  persistently  keep  away  from 
me?  I  thought  at  first  I  would  simply  let  you  go  your 
way,  and  then  I  thought  I — I  would  not.  Don't  deny  it. 
I  know  you  won't.  With  all  your  faults,  you  don't  tell 
even  little  lies ;  not  even  to  a  woman — I  believe.  Xow 
there  is  a  fine  compliment — is  it  not  ? — when  I  intended  to 
scold  you !"  She  gave  a  fluttering  little  laugh,  and,  with 
hanging  head,  continued:  "Tell  me,  is  not  the  king's 


88        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

sister  of  quality  sufficient  to  suit  you  ?  Perhaps  you  must 
have  the  queen  or  the  Blessed  Virgin?  Tell  me  now?" 
And  she  looked  up  at  him,  half  in  banter,  half  in  doubt. 

"My  duties — ,"  began  Brandon. 

"Oh !  bother  your  duties.    Tell  me  the  truth." 

"I  will,  if  you  let  me/'  returned  Brandon,  who  had  no 
intention  whatever  of  doing  anything  of  the  sort.  "My 
duties  now  occupy  my  time  in  the  evening " 

"That  will  not  do,"  interrupted  Mary,  who  knew  enough 
of  a  guardsman's  duty  to  be  sure  it  was  not  onerous.  "You 
might  as  well  come  to  it  and  tell  the  truth ;  that  you  do  not 
like  our  society."  And  she  gave  him  a  vicious  little  glance 
without  a  shadow  of  a  smile. 

"In  God's  name,  Lady  Mary,  that  is  not  it,"  answered 
Brandon,  who  was  on  the  rack.  "Please  do  not  think  it. 
I  can  not  bear  to  have  you  say  such  a  thing  when  it  is  so 
far  from  the  real  truth." 

"Then  tell  me  the  real  truth." 

"I  can  not ;  I  can  not.  I  beg  of  you  not  to  ask.  Leave 
me !  or  let  me  leave  you.  I  refuse  to  answer  further."  The 
latter  half  of  this  sentence  was  uttered  doggedly  and 
sounded  sullen  and  ill-humored,  although,  of  course,  it 
was  not  so  intended.  He  had  been  perilously  near  speak 
ing  words  which  would  probably  have  lighted,  to  their 
destruction — to  his,  certainly — the  smoldering  flames 
within  their  breast  that  it  frightened  him,  and  the  manner 
in  which  he  spoke  was  but  a  tone  giving  utterance  to  the 
pain  in  his  heart. 

Mary  took  it  as  it  sounded,  and,  in  unfeigned  surprise, 
exclaimed  angrily:  "Leave  you?  Do  I  hear  aright?  I 
never  thought  that  I,  the  daughter  and  sister  of  a  king, 
would  live  to  be  dismissed  by  a — by  a — any  one." 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  SWEETNESS  89 

"Your  highness — "  began  Brandon;  but  she  was  gone 
before  he  could  speak. 

He  did  not  follow  her  to  explain,  knowing  how  danger 
ous  such  an  explanation  would  be,  but  felt  that  it  was  best 
for  them  both  that  she  should  remain  offended,  painful  as 
the  thought  was  to  him. 

Of  course,  Mary's  womanly  self-esteem,  to  say  nothing 
of  her  royal  pride,  was  wounded  to  the  quick,  and  no 
wonder. 

Poor  Brandon  sat  down  upon  a  stone,  and,  as  he  long 
ingly  watched  her  retiring  form,  wished  in  his  heart  he 
were  dead.  This  was  the  first  time  he  really  knew  how 
much  he  loved  the  girl,  and  he  saw  that,  with  him  at  least, 
it  was  a  matter  of  bad  to  worse ;  and  at  that  rate  would 
soon  be — worst. 

Now  that  he  had  unintentionally  offended  her,  and  had 
permitted  her  to  go  without  an  explanation,  she  waj  dearer 
to  him  than  ever,  and,  as  he  sat  there  with  his  face  in  his 
hands,  he  knew  that  if  matters  went  on  as  they  were  going, 
the  time  would  soon  come  when  he  would  throw  caution 
to  the  dogs  and  would  try  the  impossible — to  win  her  for 
his  own.  Caution  and  judgment  still  sat  enthroned,  and 
they  told  him  now  what  he  knew  full  well  they  would  not 
tell  him  after  a  short  time — that  failure  was  certain  to  fol 
low  the  attempt,  and  disaster  sure  to  follow  failure.  First, 
the  king  would,  in  all  probability,  cut  off  his  head  upon  an 
intimation  of  Mary's  possible  fondness  for  him ;  and,  sec 
ond,  if  he  should  be  so  fortunate  as  to  keep  his  head,  Mary 
could  not,  and  certainly  would  not,  marry  him,  even  if  she 
loved  him  with  all  her  heart.  The  distance  between  them 
was  too  great,  and  she  knew  too  well  what  she  owed  to  her 
position.  There  was  but  one  thing  left — New  Spain ;  and 
he  determined  while  sitting  there  to  sail  with  the  next  ship. 


90        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

The  real  cause  of  Brandon's  manner  had  never  occurred 
to  Mary.  Although  she  knew  her  beauty  and  power,  as 
she  could  not  help  but  know  it — not  as  a  matter  of  vanity, 
but  as  a  matter  of  fact — yet  love  had  blinded  her  where 
Brandon  was  concerned,  and  that  knowledge  failed  to  give 
her  light  as  to  his  motives,  however  brightly  it  might 
illumine  the  conduct  of  other  men  toward  whom  she  was 
indifferent. 

So  Mary  was  angry  this  time;  angry  in  earnest,  and 
Jane  felt  the  irritable  palm  more  than  once.  I,  too,  came 
in  for  my  share  of  her  ill  temper,  as  most  certainly  would 
Brandon,  had  he  allowed  himself  to  come  within  reach  of 
her  tongue,  which  he  was  careful  not  to  do.  An  angry 
porcupine  would  have  been  pleasant  company  compared 
with  Mary  during  this  time.  There  was  no  living  with 
her  in  peace.  Even  the  king  fought  shy  of  her,  and  the 
queen  was  almost  afraid  to  speak.  Probably  so  much 
general  disturbance  was  never  before  or  since  collected 
within  one  small  body  as  in  that  young  Tartar- Venus, 
Mary.  She  did  not  tell  Jane  the  cause  of  her  vexation, 
but  only  said  she  "verily  hated  Brandon,"  and  that,  of 
course,  was  the  key  to  the  whole  situation. 

After  a  fortnight,  this  ill-humor  began  to  soften  in  the 
glowing  warmth  of  her  heart,  which  was  striving  to  reas 
sert  itself,  and  the  desire  to  see  Brandon  began  to  get  the 
better  of  her  sense  of  injury. 

Brandon,  tired  of  this  everlasting  watchfulness  to  keep 
himself  out  of  temptation,  and,  dreading  at  any  moment 
that  lapse  from  strength  which  is  apt  to  come  to  the 
strongest  of  us,  had  resolved  to  quit  his  place  at  court  and 
go  to  New  Spain  at  once.  He  had  learned,  upon  inquiry, 
that  a  ship  would  sail  from  Bristol  in  about  twenty  days, 
and  another  six  weeks  later.  So  he  chose  the  former  and 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  SWEETNESS  91 

was  making  his  arrangements  to  leave  as  soon  as  pos* 
sible. 

He  told  me  of  his  plans  and  spoke  of  his  situation: 
"You  know  the  reason  for  my  going,"  he  said,  "even  if 
I  have  never  spoken  of  it.  I  am  not  much  of  a  Joseph, 
and  am  very  little  given  to  running  away  from  a  beautiful 
woman,  but  in  this  case  I  am  fleeing  from  death  itself. 
And  to  think  what  a  heaven  it  would  be.  You  are  right, 
Caskoden;  no  man  can  withstand  the  light  of  that  girl's 
smile.  I  am  unable  to  tell  how  I  feel  toward  her.  It  some 
times  seems  that  I  can  not  live  another  hour  without  seeing 
her;  yet,  thank  God,  I  have  reason  enough  left  to  know 
that  every  sight  of  her  only  adds  to  an  already  incurable 
malady.  What  will  it  be  when  she  is  the  wife  of  the  king 
of  France?  Does  it  not  look  as  if  wild  life  in  New  Spain 
is  my  only  chance?" 

I  assented  as  we  joined  hands,  and  our  eyes  were  moist 
as  I  told  him  how  I  should  miss  him  more  than  anyone 
else  in  all  the  earth — excepting  Jane,  in  mental  reserva 
tion. 

I  told  Jane  what  Brandon  was  about  to  do,  knowing  full 
well  she  would  tell  Alary ;  which  she  did  at  once. 

Poor  Mary !  The  sighs  began  to  come  now,  and  such 
small  vestiges  of  her  ill-humor  toward  Brandon  as  still  re 
mained  were  frightened  off  in  a  hurry  by  the  fear  that  she 
had  seen  the  last  of  him. 

She  had  not  before  fully  known  that  she  loved  him.  She 
knew  he  was  the  most  delightful  companion  she  had  ever 
met,  and  that  there  was  an  exhilaration  about  his  presence 
which  almost  intoxicated  her  and  made  life  an  ecstasy,  yet 
she  did  not  know  it  was  love.  It  needed  but  the  thought 
that  she  was  about  to  lose  him  to  make  her  know  her  mal 
ady,  and  meet  it  face  to  face. 


92         WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

Upon  the  evening  when  Mary  learned  all  this,  she  went 
into  her  chamber  very  early  and  closed  the  door.  No  one 
interrupted  her  until  Jane  went  in  to  robe  her  for  the 
night,  and  to  retire.  She  then  found  that  Mary  had  robed 
herself  and  was  lying  in  bed  with  her  head  covered,  ap 
parently  asleep.  Jane  quietly  prepared  to  retire,  and  lay 
clown  in  her  own  bed.  The  girls  usually  shared  one  couch, 
but  during  Mary's  ill-temper  she  had  forced  Jane  to  sleep 
alone. 

After  a  short  silence  Jane  heard  a  sob  from  the  other 
bed,  then  another,  and  another. 

"Mary,  are  you  weeping?"  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

"What  is  the  matter,  dear?" 

"Nothing,"  with  a  sigh. 

"Do  you  wish  me  to  come  to  your  bed  ?" 

"Yes,  I  do."  So  Jane  went  over  and  lay  beside  Mary, 
who  gently  put  her  arms  about  her  neck. 

"When  will  he  leave  ?"  whispered  Mary,  shyly  confess 
ing  all  by  her  question. 

"I  do  not  know,"  responded  Jane,  "but  he  will  see  you 
before  he  goes." 

"Do  you  believe  he  will  ?" 

"I  know  it;"  and  with  this  consolation  Mary  softly 
wept  herself  to  sleep. 

After  this,  for  a  few  days,  Mary  was  quiet  enough. 
Her  irritable  mood  had  vanished,  but  Jane  could  see  that 
she  was  on  the  lookout  for  some  one  all  the  time,  although 
she  made  the  most  pathetic  little  efforts  to  conceal  her 
watchfulness. 

At  last  a  meeting  came  about  in  this  way :  Next  to  the 
king's  bed-chamber  was  a  luxuriously  furnished  little 
apartment  with  a  well-selected  library.  Here  Brandon 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  SWEETNESS  93 

and  I  often  went,  afternoons,  to  read,  as  we  were  sure  to 
be  undisturbed. 

Late  one  day  Brandon  had  gone  over  to  this  quiet  re 
treat,  and  having  selected  a  volume,  took  his  place  in  a 
secluded  little  alcove  half  hidden  in  _arras  draperies. 
There  was  a  cushioned  seat  along  the  wall  and  a  small  dia 
mond-shaped  window  to  furnish  light. 

He  had  not  been  there  long  when  in  came  Mary.  I  can 
not  say  whether  she  knew  Brandon  was  there  or  not,  but 
she  was  there  and  he  was  there,  which  is  the  only  thing 
to  the  point,  and  rinding  him,  she  stepped  into  the  alcove 
before  he  was  aware  of  her  presence. 

Brandon  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant,  and  with  a  low 
bow  was  backing  himself  out  most  deferentially,  to  leave 
her  in  sole  possession  if  she  wished  to  rest. 

"Master  Brandon,  you  need  not  go.  I  will  not  hurt 
you.  Besides,  if  this  place  is  not  large  enough  for  us  both, 
I  will  go.  I  would  not  disturb  you."  She  spoke  with  a 
tremulous  voice  and  a  quick,  uneasy  glance,  and  started  to 
move  backward  out  of  the  alcove. 

"Lady  Mary,  how  can  you  speak  so?  You  know — you 
must  know — oh !  I  beg  you — "  But  she  interrupted  him 
by  taking  his  arm  and  drawing  him  to  a  seat  beside  her 
on  the  cushion.  She  could  have  drawn  down  the  Colossus 
of  Rhodes  with  the  look  she  gave  Brandon,  so  full  was  it 
of  command,  entreaty  and  promise. 

"That's  it;  I  don't  know,  but  I  want  to  know;  and  I 
Avant  you  to  sit  here  beside  me  and  tell  me.  I  am  going 
to  be  reconciled  with  you,  despite  the  way  you  treated  me 
when  last  we  met.  I  am  going  to  be  friends  with  you 
whether  you  will  or  not.  Now  what  do  you  say  to  that, 
sir?"  She  spoke  with  a  fluttering  little  laugh  of  uneasy 
non-assurance,  which  showed  that  her  heart  was  not 


94        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

nearly  so  confident  nor  so  bold  as  her  words  would  mak* 
believe.  Poor  Brandon,  usually  so  ready,  had  nothing  "to 
say  to  that,"  but  sat  in  helpless  silence. 

Was  this  the  sum  total  of  all  his  wise  determinations 
made  at  the  cost  of  so  much  pain  and  effort?  Was  this 
the  answer  to  all  his  prayers,  "Lead  me  not  into  tempta 
tion"?  He  had  done  his  part,  for  he  had  done  all  he 
could.  Heaven  had  not  helped  him,  since  here  was  temp 
tation  thrust  upon  him  when  least  expected,  and  when  the 
way  was  so  narrow  he  could  not  escape,  but  must  meet  it 
face  to  face. 

Mary  soon  recovered  her  self-possession — women  are 
better  skilled  in  this  art  than  men — and  continued : 

"I  am  not  intending  to  say  one  word  about  your  treat 
ment  of  me  that  day  over  in  the  forest,  although  it  was 
very  bad,  and  you  have  acted  abominably  ever  since, 
Now  is  not  that  kind  in  me?"  And  she  softly  laughed 
as  she  peeped  up  at  the  poor  fellow  from  beneath  those 
sweeping  lashes,  with  the  premeditated  purpose  of  tanta 
lizing  him,  I  suppose.  She  was  beginning  to  know  her 
power  over  him,  and  it  was  never  greater  than  at  this  mo 
ment.  Her  beauty  had  its  sweetest  quality,  for  the  prin 
cess  was  sunk  and  the  woman  was  dominant,  with  flushed 
face  and  flashing  eyes  that  caught  a  double  luster  from  the 
glowing  love  that  made  her  heart  beat  so  fast.  Her  gown, 
too,  was  the  best  she  could  have  worn  to  show  her  charms. 
She  must  have  known  Brandon  was  there,  and  must  have 
dressed  especially  to  go  to  him.  She  wore  her  favorite 
long  flowing  outer  sleeve,  without  the  close  fitting  inner 
one.  It  was  slit  to  the  shoulder,  and  gave  entrancing 
glimpses  of  her  arms  with  every  movement,  leaving  them 
almost  bare  when  she  lifted  her  hands,  which  was  often, 
for  she  was  full  of  gestures  as  a  Frenchwoman.  Her  bod- 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  SWEETNESS  95 

ice  was  cut  lo\v,  both  back  and  front,  showing  ner  large 
perfectly  molded  throat  and  neck,  like  an  alabaster  pillar 
of  beauty  and  strength,  and  disclosing  her  bosom  just  to 
its  shadowy  incurving,  white  and  billowy  as  drifted  snow7. 
Her  hair  was  thrown  back  in  an  attempt  at  a  coil,  though, 
like  her  own  rebellious  nature,  it  could  not  brook  restraint, 
and  persistently  escaped  in  a  hundred  little  curls  that 
fringed  her  face  and  lay  upon  the  soft  white  nape  of  her 
neck  like  fluffy  shreds  of  sun-lit  floss  on  newr  cut  ivory. 

With  the  mood  that  was  upon  her,  I  wonder  Brandon 
maintained  his  self-restraint  even  for  a  moment.  He  felt 
that  his  only  hope  lay  in  silence,  so  he  sat  beside  her  and 
said  nothing.  He  told  me  long  afterwards  that  while  sit 
ting  there  in  the  intervals  between  her  speech,  the  oddest, 
wildest  thoughts  ran  through  his  brain.  He  wondered 
how  he  could  escape.  He  thought  of  the  window,  and  that 
possibly  he  might  break  away  through  it,  and  then  he 
thought  of  feigning  illness,  and  a  hundred  other  absurd 
schemes,  but  they  all  came  to  nothing,  and  he  sat  there  to 
let  events  take  their  own  course  as  they  seemed  deter 
mined  to  do  in  spite  of  him. 

After  a  short  silence,  Mary  continued,  half  banteringly : 
"Answer  me,  sir !  I  will  have  no  more  of  this.  You  shall 
treat  me  at  least  with  the  courtesy  you  would  show  a 
bourgeoise  girl/' 

"Oil,  that  you  were  only  a  burgher's  daughter." 

"Yes,  I  know  all  that ;  but  I  am  not.  It  can't  be  helped, 
and  you  shall  answer  me." 

"There  is  no  answer,  dear  lady — I  beg  you — oh,  do  you 
not  see — " 

"Yes,  yes ;  but  answer  my  question ;  am  I  not  kind — 
more  than  you  deserve  ?" 

"Indeed,  yes;    a  thousand    times.     You  have    alwavs 


96        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

been  so  kind,  so  gracious  and  so  condescending  to  me  that 
I  can  only  thank  you,  thank  you,  thank  you,"  answered 
Brandon,  almost  shyly ;  not  daring  to  lift  his  eyes  to  hers. 

Mary  saw  the  manner  quickly  enough — what  woman 
ever  missed  it,  much  less  so  keen-eyed  a  girl  as  she — and 
it  gave  her  confidence,  and  brought  back  the  easy  banter 
of  her  old  time  manner. 

"How  modest  we  have  become!  Where  is  the  bold 
ness  of  which  we  used  to  have  so  much  ?  Kind  ?  Have  I 
always  been  so?  How  about  the  first  time  I  met  you? 
Was  I  kind  then  ?  And  as  to  condescension,  don't — don't 
use  that  word  between  us." 

"No,"  returned  Brandon,  who,  in  his  turn,  was  recov 
ering  himself,  "no,  I  can't  say  that  you  were  very  kind  at 
first.  How  you  did  fly  out  at  me  and  surprise  me.  It 
was  so  unexpected  it  almost  took  me  off  my  feet,"  and 
they  both  laughed  in  remembering  the  scene  of  their  first 
meeting.  "No,  I  can't  say  your  kindness  showed  itself 
very  strongly  in  that  first  interview,  but  it  was  there  nev 
ertheless,  and  when  Lady  Jane  led  me  back,  your  real 
nature  asserted  itself,  as  it  always  does,  and  you  were  kind 
to  me ;  kind  as  only  you  can  be." 

That  was  getting  very  near  to  the  sentimental ;  danger 
ously  near,  he  thought ;  and  he  said  to  himself :  "If  this 
does  not  end  quickly  I  shall  have  to  escape." 

"You  are  easily  satisfied  if  you  call  that  good,"  laugh 
ingly  returned  Mary.  "I  can  be  ever  so  much  better  than 
that  if  I  try." 

"Let  me  see  you  try,"  said  Brandon. 

"Why,  I'm  trying  now,"  answered  Mary  with  a  dis 
tracting  little  pout.  "Don't  you  know  genuine  out-and- 
out  goodness  when  you  see  it?  I'm  doing  my  very  best 
right  no w0  Can't  you  tell  ?" 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  SWEETNESS  97 

"Yes,  I  think  I  recognize  it ;  but — but — be  bad  again." 

"No,  I  won't!  I  will  not  be  bad  even  to  please  you; 
I  have  determined  not  to  be  bad  and  I  will  not — not  even 
to  be  good.  This,"  placing  her  hand  over  her  heart,  "is 
just  full  of  'good'  to-day,"  and  her  lips  parted  as  she 
laughed  at  her  own  pleasantry. 

"I  am  afraid  you  had  better  be  bad — I  give  you  fair 
warning,"  said  Brandon  huskily.  He  felt  her  eyes  upon 
him  all  the  time,  and  his  strength  and  good  resolves  were 
oozing  out  like  wine  from  an  ill-coppered  cask.  After  a 
short  silence  Mary  continued,  regardless  of  the  warn 
ing: 

"But  the  position  is  reversed  with  us ;  at  first  I  was  un 
kind  to  you,  and  you  were  kind  to  me,  but  now  I  am  kind 
to  you  and  you  are  unkind  to  me." 

"I  can  come  back  at  you  with  your  own  words,"  re 
sponded  Brandon.  "You  don't  know  when  I  am  kind  to 
you.  I  should  be  kinder  to  myself,  at  least,  were  I  to 
leave  you  and  take  myself  to  the  other  side  of  the  world." 

"Oh  !  that  is  one  thing  I  wanted  to  ask  you  about.  Jane 
tells  me  you  are  going  to  New  Spain?" 

She  was  anxious  to  know,  but  asked  the  question  partly 
to  turn  the  conversation  which  was  fast  becoming  perilous. 
As  a  girl,  she  loved  Brandon,  and  knew  it  only  too  well, 
but  she  knew  also  that  she  was  a  princess,  standing  next  to 
the  throne  of  the  greatest  kingdom  on  earth;  in  fact,  at 
that  time,  the  heir  apparent — Henry  having  no  children — 
for  the  people  would  not  have  the  Scotch  king's  imp — and 
the  possibility  of  such  a  thing  as  a  union  with  Brandon 
had  never  entered  her  head,  however  passionate  her  feel 
ings  toward  him.  She  also  knew  that  speaking  a  thought 
vitalizes  it  and  gives  it  force ;  so,  although  she  could  not 
deny  herself  the  pleasure  of  being  near  him,  of  seeing 
f 


98        WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

him,  and  hearing  the  tones  of  his  voice,  and  now  and  then 
feeling  the  thrill  of  an  accidental  touch,  she  had  enough 
good  sense  to  know  that  a  mutual  confession,  that  is,  tak 
ing  it  for  granted  Brandon  loved  her,  as  she  felt  almost 
sure  he  did,  must  be  avoided  at  all  hazards.  It  was  not 
to  be  thought  of  between  people  so  far  apart  as  they.  The 
brink  was  a  delightful  place,  full  of  all  the  sweet  ecstasies 
and  thrilling  joys  of  a  seventh  heaven,  but  over  the  brink 
— well !  there  should  be  no  "over,"  for  who  was  she  ?  And 
who  was  he  ?  Those  two  dreadfully  stubborn  facts  could 
not  be  forgotten,  and  the  gulf  between  them  could  not  be 
spanned ;  she  knew  that  only  too  well.  No  one  better. 

Brandon  answered  her  question :  "I  do  not  know  about 
going;  I  think  I  shall.  I  have  volunteered  with  a  ship 
that  sails  in  two  or  three  weeks  from  Bristol,  and  I  sup 
pose  I  shall  go." 

"Oh,  no !  do  you  really  mean  it  ?"  It  gave  her  a  pang 
to  hear  that  he  was  actually  going,  and  her  love  pulsed 
higher ;  but  she  also  felt  a  sense  of  relief,  somewhat  as  a 
conscientious  house-breaker  might  feel  upon  finding  the 
door  securely  locked  against  him.  It  would  take  away  a 
temptation  which  she  could  not  resist,  and  yet  dared  not 
yield  to  much  longer. 

"I  think  there  is  no  doubt  that  I  mean  it,"  replied  Bran 
don.     "I  should  like  to  remain  in  England  until  I  can 
:  save  enough  money  out  of  the  king's  allowance  to  pay  the 
i  debt  against  my  father's  estate,  so  that  I  may  be  able  to  go 
j  away  and  feel  that  my  brother  and  sisters  are  secure  in 
their  home — my  brother  is  not  strong — but  I  know  it  is 
better  for  me  to  go  now,  and  hope  to  find  the  money  out 
there.     I  could  have  paid  it  with  what  I  Jost  to  Judson 
before  I  discovered  him  cheating."     This  was  the  first 
time  he  had  ever  alluded  to  the  duel,  and  the  thought  of  it, 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  SWEETNESS  99 

in  Mary's  mind,  added  a  faint  touch  of  fear  to  her  feeling 
toward  him. 

She  looked  up  with  a  light  in  her  eyes  and  asked: 
''What  is  the  debt?  How  much?  Let  me  give  you  the 
money.  I  have  so  much  more  than  I  need.  Let  me  pay 
it.  Please  tell  me  how  much  it  is  and  I  will  hand  it  to 
you.  You  can  come  to  my  rooms  and  get  it  or  I  will  send 
it  to  you.  Now  tell  me  that  I  may.  Quickly."  And  she 
was  alive  with  enthusiastic  interest. 

" There  now !  you  are  kind  again ;  as  kind  as  even  you 
can  be.  Be  sure,  I  thank  you,  though  I  say  it  only  once," 
and  he  looked  into  her  eyes  with  a  gaze  she  could  not 
stand  even  for  an  instant.  This  was  growing  dangerous 
again,  so,  catching  himself,  he  turned  the  conversation 
back  into  the  bantering  vein. 

"Ah !  you  want  to  pay  the  debt  that  I  may  have  no  ex 
cuse  to  remain  ?  Is  that  it  ?  Perhaps  you  are  not  so  kind 
after  all." 

"No!  no!  you  know  better.  But  let  me  pay  the  debt. 
How  much  is  it  and  to  whom  is  it  owing?  Tell  me  at 
once,  I  command  you." 

"No !  no !  Lady  Mary,  I  can  not." 

"Please  do.  I  beg — if  I  can  not  command.  Now  I 
know  you  will ;  you  would  not  make  me  beg  twice  for 
anything?"  She  drew  closer  to  him  as  she  spoke  and  put 
her  hand  coaxingly  upon  his  arm.  With  an  irresistible  im 
pulse  he  took  the  hand  in  his  and  lifted  it  to  his  lips  in  a 
lingering  caress  that  could  not  be  mistaken.  It  was  all  so 
quick  and  so  full  of  fire  and  meaning  that  Mary  took 
fright,  and  the  princess,  for  the  moment,  came  uppermost. 

"Master  Brandon!"  she  exclaimed  sharply,  and  drew 
away  her  hand.  Brandon  dropped  the  hand  and  moved 
over  on  the  seat.  He  did  not  speak,  but  turned  his  face 


100      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

from  her  and  looked  out  of  the  window  toward  the  river. 
Thus  they  sat  in  silence,  Brandon's  hand  resting  listlessly 
upon  the  cushion  between  them.  Mary  saw  the  eloquent 
movement  away  from  her  and  his  speaking  attitude,  with 
averted  face ;  then  the  princess  went  into  eclipse,  and  the 
imperial  woman  was  ascendant  once  more.  She  looked  at 
him  for  a  brief  space  with  softening  eyes,  and,  lifting  her 
hand,  put  it  back  in  his,  saying : 

"There  it  is  again — if  you  want  it." 

Want  it?  Ah!  this  was  too  much!  The  hand  would 
not  satisfy  now ;  it  must  be  all,  all !  And  he  caught  her 
to  his  arms  with  a  violence  that  frightened  her. 

"Please  don't,  please !  Not  this  time.  Ah !  have  mercy, 

Charl-  Well!  There!  ....  There! Mary 

mother,  forgive  me."  Then  her  woman  spirit  fell  before 
the  whirlwind  of  his  passion,  and  she  was  on  his  breast 
with  her  white  arms  around  his  neck,  paying  the  same 
tribute  to  the  little  blind  god  that  he  would  have  exacted 
from  the  lowliest  maiden  of  the  land.  Just  as  though  it 
were  not  the  blood  of  fifty  kings  and  queens  that  made  so 
red  and  sweet,  aye,  sweet  as  nectar  thrice  distilled,  those 
lips  which  now  so  freely  paid  their  dues  in  coined  bliss. 

Brandon  held  the  girl  for  a  moment  or  two,  then  fell 
upon  his  knees  and  buried  his  face  in  her  lap. 

"Heaven  help  me !"  he  cried. 

She  pushed  the  hair  back  from  his  forehead  with  her 
hand  and  as  she  fondled  the  curls,  leaned  over  him  and 
softly  whispered : 

"Heaven  help  us  both ;    for  I  love  you !" 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  "Don't!  don't!  I  pray  you," 
he  said  wildly,  and  almost  ran  from  her. 

Mary  followed  him  nearly  to  the  door  of  the  room,  but 
when  he  turned  he  saw  that  she  had  stopped,  and  was 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  SWEETNESS  IO1 

standing  with  her  hands  over  her  face,  as  if  in  tears. 

He  went  back  to  her  and  said :  "I  tried  to  avoid  this, 
and  if  you  had  helped  me,  it  would  never — "  But  he  re 
membered  how  he  had  always  despised  Adam  for  throw 
ing1  the  blame  upon  Eve,  no  matter  how  much  she  may 
have  deserved  it,  and  continued:  "No;  I  do  not  mean 
that.  It  is  all  my  fault.  I  should  have  gone  away  long 
ago.  I  could  not  help  it ;  I  tried.  Oh !  I  tried." 

Mary's  eyes  were  bent  upon  the  floor,  and  tears  were 
falling  over  her  flushed  cheeks  unheeded  and  unchecked. 

"There  is  no  fault  in  any  one ;  neither  could  I  help  it," 
she  murmured. 

"No,  no ;  it  is  not  that  there  is  any  fault  in  the  ordinary 
sense;  it  is  like  suicide  or  any  other  great,  self-inflicted 
injury  with  me.  I  am  different  from  other  men.  I  shall 
never  recover." 

"I  know  only  too  well  that  you  are  different  from  other 
men,  and — and  I,  too,  am  different  from  other  women — 
am  I  not?" 

"Ah,  different!  There  is  no  other  woman  in  all  this 
wide,  long  world,"  and  they  were  in  each  other's  arms 
again.  She  turned  her  shoulder  to  him  and  rested  with 
the  support  of  his  arms  about  her.  Her  eyes  were  cast 
down  in  silence,  and  she  was  evidently  thinking  as  she 
toyed  with  the  lace  of  his  doublet.  Brandon  knew  her 
varying  expressions  so  well  that  he  .saw  there  was  some 
thing  wanting,  so  he  asked : 

"Is  there  something  you  wish  to  say  ?" 

"Not  I,"  she  responded  with  emphasis  on  the  pronoun. 

"Then  is  it  something  you  wish  me  to  say  ?" 

She  nodded  her  head  slowly:    "Yes." 

"What  is  it?    Tell  me  and  I  will  say  it," 

She  shook  her  head  slowly:    "No." 


'KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

"What  is  it  ?    I  can  not  guess." 

"Did  you  not  like  to  hear  me  say  that — that  I — loved 
you?" 

"Ah,  yes;  you  know  it.  But — oh! — do  you  wish  to 
hear  me  say  it  ?" 

The  head  nodded  rapidly  two  or  three  times:  "Yes/' 
And  the  black  curving  lashes  were  lifted  for  a  fleeting, 
luminous  instant. 

"It  is  surely  not  necessary ;  you  have  known  it  so  long 
already,  but  I  am  only  too  glad  to  say  it.  I  love  you." 

She  nestled  closer  to  him  and  hid  her  face  on  his  breast. 

"Now  that  I  have  said  it,  what  is  my  reward?"  he 
asked — and  the  fair  face  came  up,  red  and  rosy,  with 
"rewards,"  any  one  of  which  was  worth  a  king's  ransom. 

"But  this  is  worse  than  insanity,"  cried  Brandon,  as  he 
almost  pushed  her  from  him.  "We  can  never  belong  tc 
each  other ;  never." 

"No,"  said  Mary,  with  a  despairing  shake  of  the  head, 
as  the  tears  began  to  flow  again ;  "no !  never."  And  fall 
ing  upon  his  knees,  he  caught  both  her  hands  in  his, 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  ran  from  the  room. 

Her  words  showed  him  the  chasm  anew.  She  saw  the 
distance  between  them  even  better  than  he.  Evidently  it 
seemed  further  looking  down  than  looking  up.  There  was 
nothing  left  now  but  flight. 

He  sought  refuge  in  his  own  apartments  and  wildly 
walked  the  floor,  exclaiming,  "Fool !  fool  that  I  am  to  lay 
up  this  store  of  agony  to  last  me  all  my  days.  Why  did 
I  ever  come  to  this  court  ?  God  pity  me — pity  me !"  And 
he  fell  upon  his  knees  at  the  bed,  burying  his  face  in  his 
arms,  his  mighty  man's  frame  shaking  as  with  a  palsy. 

That  same  night  Brandon  told  me  how  he  had  commit- 
ted  suicide,  as  he  put  it,  and  of  his  intention  to  go  to  Bris- 


LOVE'S  FIERCE  SWEETNESS  103 

tol  and  there  await  the  sailing  of  the  ship,  and  perhaps 
find  a  partial  resurrection  in  New  Spain. 

Unfortunately,  he  could  not  start  to  Bristol  at  once,  as 
he  had  given  some  challenges  for  a  tournament  at  Rich 
mond,  and  could  furnish  no  good  excuse  to  withdraw 
them;  but  he  would  not  leave  his  room,  nor  again  see 
"that  girl  who  was  driving  him  mad." 

It  was  better,  he  thought,  and  wisely  too,  that  there  be 
no  leave-taking,  but  that  he  should  go  without  meeting 
her. 

"If  I  see  her  again,"  he  said,  "I  shall  have  to  kill  some 
one,  even  if  it  is  only  myself." 

I  heard  him  tossing  in  his  bed  all  night,  and  when  morn 
ing  came  he  arose  looking  haggard  enough,  but  writh  his 
determination  to  run  away  and  see  Mary  no  more, 
stronger  than  ever  upon  him. 

But  providence,  or  fate,  or  some  one,  ordered  it  differ 
ently,  and  there  was  plenty  of  trouble  ahead. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  TROUBLE  IN  BILLINGSGATE  WARD 

About  a  week  after  Brandon's  memorable  interview 
with  Mary  an  incident  occurred  which  changed  every 
thing  and  came  very  near  terminating  his  career  in  the 
flower  of  youth.  It  also  brought  about  a  situation  of  af 
fairs  that  showed  the  difference  in  the  quality  of  these  two 
persons  thrown  so  marvelously  together  from  their  far 
distant  stations  at  each  end  of  the  ladder  of  fortune,  in  a 
way  that  reflected  very  little  credit  upon  the  one  from  the 
upper  end.  But  before  I  tell  you  of  that  I  will  relate 
briefly  one  or  two  other  matters  that  had  a  bearing  upon 
what  was  done,  and  the  motives  prompting  it. 

To  begin  with,  Brandon  had  kept  himself  entirely  away 
from  the  princess  ever  since  the  afternoon  at  the  king's 
ante-chamber.  The  first  day  or  so  she  sighed,  but  thought 
little  of  his  absence;  then  she  wept,  and  as  usual  began 
to  grow  piqued  and  irritable. 

What  was  left  of  her  judgment  told  her  it  was  better  for 
them  to  remain  apart,  but  her  longing  to  see  Brandon 
grew  stronger  as  the  prospect  of  it  grew  less,  and  she  be 
came  angry  that  it  could  not  be  gratified.  Jane  was  right ; 
an  unsatisfied  desire  with  Mary  was  torture.  Even  her 
sense  of  the  great  distance  between  them  had  begun  to 
fade,  and  when  she  so  wished  for  him  and  he  did  not 
come,  their  positions  seemed  to  be  reversed.  At  the  end 
of  the  third  day  she  sent  for  him  to  come  to  her  rooms, 
but  he,  by  a  mighty  effort,  sent  back  a  brief  note  saying 

(104) 


THE  TROUBLE  IN  BILLINGSGATE  WARD      105 

that  he  could  not  and  ought  not  to  go.  This,  of  course, 
threw  Mary  into  a  great  passion,  for  she  judged  him  by 
herself — a  very  common  but  dangerous  method  of  judg 
ment — and  thought  that  if  he  felt  at  all  as  she  did,  he 
would  throw  prudence  to  the  winds  and  come  to  her,  as 
she  knew  she  would  go  to  him  if  she  could.  It  did  not 
occur  to  her  that  Brandon  knew  himself  well  enough  to 
be  sure  he  would  never  go  to  New  Spain  if  he  allowed 
another  grain  of  temptation  to  fall  into  the  balance  against 
him,  but  would  remain  in  London  to  love  hopelessly,  to 
try  to  win  a  hopeless  cause,  and  end  it  all  by  placing  his 
head  upon  the  block. 

It  required  all  his  strength,  even  now,  to  hold  in  line 
his  determination  to  go  to  Xew  Spain.  He  had  reached 
his  limit.  He  had  a  fund  of  that  most  useful  of  all  wis 
dom,  knowledge  of  self,  and  knew  his  limitations ;  a  little 
matter  concerning  which  nine  men  out  of  ten  go  all  their 
lives  in  blissless  ignorance. 

Mary,  who  was  no  more  given  to  self-analysis  than  her 
pet  linnet,  did  not  appreciate  Brandon's  potent  reasons, 
and  was  in  a  flaming  passion  when  she  received  his  an 
swer.  Rage  and  humiliation  completely  smothered,  for  the 
time,  her  affection,  and  she  said  to  herself,  over  and  over 
again :  "I  hate  the  low-born  wretch.  Oh !  to  think  what 
I  have  permitted !"  And  tears  of  shame  and  repentance 
came  in  a  flood,  as  they  have  come  from  yielding  woman's 
eyes  since  the  world  was  born.  Then  she  began  to  doubt 
his  motives.  As  long  as  she  thought  she  had  given  her 
gift  to  one  who  offered  a  responsive  passion,  she  was  glad 
and  proud  of  what  she  had  done,  but  she  had  heard  of 
man's  pretense  in  order  to  cozen  woman  out  of  her  favors, 
and  she  began  to  think  she  had  been  deceived.  To  her  the 
logic  seemed  irresistible ;  that  if  the  same  motive  lived  in 


106      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

his  heart,  and  prompted  him,  that  burned  in  her  breast, 
and  induced  her,  who  was  virgin  to  her  very  heart-core, 
and  whose  hand  Had  hardly  before  been  touched  by  the 
hand  of  man,  to  give  so  much,  no  power  of  prudence  could 
keep  him  away  from  her.  So  she  concluded  she  had  given 
her  gold  for  his  dross.  This  conclusion  was  more  easily- 
arrived  at  owing  to  the  fact  that  she  had  never  been  en 
tirely  sure  of  the  state  of  his  heart.  There  had  always 
been  a  love-exciting  grain  of  doubt ;  and  when  the  thought 
came  to  her  that  she  had  been  obliged  to  ask  him  to  tell 
her  of  his  affection,  and  that  the  advances  had  really  all 
been  made  by  her,  that  confirmed  her  suspicion.  It  seemed 
only  too  clear  that  she  had  been  too  quick  to  give — no  very 
comforting  thought  to  a  proud  girl,  even  though  a  mis 
taken  one. 

As  the  days  went  by  and  Brandon  did  not  come,  her 
anger  cooled,  as  usual,  and  again  her  heart  began  to 
ache;  but  her  sense  of  injury  grew  stronger  day  by  day, 
and  she  thought  she  was,  beyond  a  doubt,  the  most  ill- 
used  of  women. 

The  other  matter  I  wish  to  tell  you  is,  that  the  negotia 
tions  for  Mary's  marriage  with  old  Louis  XII  of  France 
were  beginning  to  be  an  open  secret  about  the  court.  The 
Due  de  Longueville,  who  had  been  held  by  Henry  for 
some  time  as  a  sort  of  a  hostage  from  the  French  king, 
had  opened  negotiations  by  inflaming  the  flickering  pas 
sions  of  old  Louis  with  descriptions  of  Mary's  beauty.  As 
there  was  a  prospect  for  a  new  emperor  soon,  and  as  the 
imperial  bee  had  of  late  been  making  a  most  vehement 
buzzing  in  Henry's  bonnet,  he  encouraged  De  Longueville, 
and  thought  it  would  be  a  good  time  to  purchase  the  help 
of  France  at  the  cost  of  his  beautiful  sister  and  a  hand 
some  dower.  Mary,  of  course,  had  not  been  consulted, 


THE  TROUBLE  IX  BILLINGSGATE  WARD      107 

and  although  she  had  coaxed  her  brother  out  of  other 
marriage  projects,  Henry  had  gone  about  this  as  if  he 
were  in  earnest,  and  it  was  thought  throughout  the  court 
that  Mary's  coaxings  would  be  all  in  vain — a  fear  which 
she,  herself,  had  begun  to  share,  notwithstanding  her 
usual  self-confidence. 

She  hated  the  thought  of  the  marriage,  and  dreaded  it 
as  she  would  death  itself,  though  she  said  nothing  to  any 
one  but  Jane,  and  was  holding  her  forces  in  reserve  for  the 
grand  attack.  She  was  preparing  the  way  by  being  very 
sweet  and  kind  to  Henry. 

Xow  all  of  this,  coming  upon  the  heels  of  her  trouble 
with  Brandon,  made  her  most  wretched  indeed.  For  the 
first  time  in  her  life  she  began  to  feel  suffering ;  that  great 
broadener,  in  fact,  maker,  of  human  character. 

Above  all,  there  was  an  alarming  sense  of  uncertainty 
in  everything.  She  could  hardly  bring  herself  to  believe 
that  Brandon  would  really  go  to  Xew  Spain,  and  that  she 
would  actually  lose  him,  although  she  did  not  want  him, 
as  yet ;  that  is,  as  a  prospective  husband.  Flashes  of  all 
sorts  of  wild  schemes  had  begun  to  shoot  through  her 
anger  and  grief  when  she  stared  in  the  face  the  prospect 
of  her  double  separation  from  him — her  marriage  to  an 
other,  and  the  countless  miles  of  fathomless  sea  that  would 
be  between  them.  She  could  endure  anything  better  than 
uncertainty.  A  menacing  future  is  the  keenest  of  all  tor 
tures  for  any  of  us  to  bear,  but  especially  for  a  girl  like 
Mary.  Death  itself  is  not  so  terrible  as  the  fear  of  it. 

Xow  about  this  time  there  lived  over  in  Billingsgate 
Ward — the  worst  part  of  London — a  Jewish  soothsayer 
named  Grouche.  He  was  also  an  astrologer,  and  had  of 
late  grown  into  great  fame  as  prophet  of  the  future — a 
fortune-teller. 


108      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

His  fame  rested  on  several  remarkable  predictions 
which  had  been  fulfilled  to  the  letter,  and  I  really  think  the 
man  had  some  wonderful  powers.  They  said  he  was  half 
Jew,  half  gypsy,  and,  if  there  is  alchemy  in  the  mixing  of 
blood,  that  combination  should  surely  produce  something 
peculiar.  The  city  folk  were  said  to  have  visited  him  in 
great  numbers,  and,  notwithstanding  the  priests  and  bish 
ops  all  condemned  him  as  an  imp  of  satan  and  a  follower 
of  witchcraft,  many  fine  people,  including  some  court 
ladies,  continued  to  go  there  by  stealth  in  order  to  take  a 
dangerous,  inquisitive  peep  into  the  future.  I  say  by 
stealth ;  because  his  ostensible  occupation  of  soothsaying 
and  fortune-telling  was  not  his  only  business.  His  house 
was  really  a  place  of  illicit  meeting,  and  the  soothsaying 
was  often  but  an  excuse  for  going  there.  Lacking  this 
ostensible  occupation,  he  would  not  have  been  allowed  to 
keep  his  house  within  the  wall,  but  would  have  been  rele 
gated  to  his  proper  place — Bridge  Ward  Without. 

Mary  had  long  wanted  to  see  this  Grouche,  at  first  out 
of  mere  curiosity ;  but  Henry,  who  was  very  moral — with 
other  people's  consciences — would  not  think  of  permitting 
it.  Two  ladies,  Lady  Chesterfield  and  Lady  Ormond, 
both  good  and  virtuous  women,  had  been  detected  in  such 
a  visit,  and  had  been  disgraced  and  expelled  from  court  in 
the  most  cruel  manner  by  order  of  the  king  himself. 

Now,  added  to  Mary's  old-time  desire  to  see  Grouche, 
came  a  longing  to  know  the  outcome  of  the  present  mo 
mentous  complication  of  affairs  that  touched  her  so 
closely. 

She  could  not  wait  for  Time  to  unfold  himself,  and  drop 
his  budget  of  events  as  he  traveled,  but  she  must  plunge 
ahead  of  him,  and  know,  beforehand,  the  stores  of  the 
fates — an  intrusion  they  usually  resent.  I  need  not  tell 


THE  TROUBLE  IN  BILLINGSGATE  WARD      109 

you  that  was  Mary's  only  object  in  going,  nor  that  her 
heart  was  as  pure  as  a  babe's — quite  as  chaste,  and  almost 
as  innocent.  It  is  equally  true  that  the  large  proportion  of 
persons  who  visited  Grouche  made  his  soothsaying  an  ex 
cuse.  The  thought  of  how  wretched  life  would  be  with 
Louis  had  put  into  Mary's  mind  the  thought  of  how  sweet 
it  would  be  with  Brandon.  Then  came  the  wish  that 
Brandon  had  been  a  prince,  or  even  a  great  English  noble 
man  ;  and  then  leaped  up,  all  rainbow-hued,  the  hope  that 
he  might  yet,  by  reason  of  his  own  great  virtues,  rise  to 
all  of  these,  and  she  become  his  wife.  But  at  the  thres 
hold  of  this  fair  castle  came  knocking  the  thought  that 
perhaps  he  did  not  care  for  her,  and  had  deceived  her  to 
gain  her  favors.  Then  she  flushed  with  anger  and  swore 
to  herself  she  hated  him,  and  hoped  never  to  see  his  face 
again.  And  the  castle  faded  and  was  wafted  away  to  the 
realms  of  airy  nothingness. 

Ah !  how  people  will  sometimes  lie  to  themselves ;  and 
sensible  people  at  that. 

So  Mary  wanted  to  see  Grouche ;  first,  through  curios 
ity,  in  itself  a  stronger  motive  than  we  give  it  credit  for ; 
second,  to  learn  if  she  would  be  able  to  dissuade  Henry 
from  the  French  marriage  and  perhaps  catch  a  hint  how 
to  do  it ;  and  last,  but  by  no  means  least,  to  discover  the 
state  of  Brandon's  heart  toward  her. 

By  this  time  the  last-named  motive  was  strong  enough 
to  draw  her  any  whither,  although  she  would  not  acknowl 
edge  it,  even  to  herself,  and  in  truth  hardly  knew  it;  so 
full  are  we  of  things  we  know  not  of. 

So  she  determined  to  go  to  see  Grouche  secretly,  and 
was  confident  she  could  arrange  the  visit  in  such  a  way 
that  it  would  never  be  discovered. 

One  morning  I  met  Jane,  who  told  me,  with  troubled 


110      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

face,  that  she  and  Mary  were  going  to  London  to  make 
some  purchases,  would  lodge  at  Bridewell  House,  and  go 
over  to  Billingsgate  that  evening  to  consult  Grouche. 
Mary  had  taken  the  whim  into  her  willful  head,  and  Jane 
could  not  dissuade  her. 

The  court  was  all  at  Greenwich  and  nobody  at  Bride 
well,  so  Mary  thought  they  could  disguise  themselves  as 
orange  girls  and  easily  make  the  trip  without  any  one 
being  the  wiser. 

It  was  then,  as  now,  no  safe  matter  for  even  a  man  to 
go  unattended  through  the  best  parts  of  London  after 
dark,  to  say  nothing  of  Billingsgate,  that  nest  of  water- 
rats  and  cut-throats.  But  Mary  did  not  realize  the  full 
danger  of  the  trip,  and  would,  as  usual,  allow  nobody  to 
tell  her. 

She  had  threatened  Jane  with  all  sorts  of  vengeance  if 
she  divulged  her  secret,  and  Jane  was  miserable  enough 
between  her  fears  on  either  hand;  for  Mary,  though  the 
younger,  held  her  in  complete  subjection.  Despite  her 
fear  of  Mary,  Jane  asked  me  to  go  to  London  and  fol 
low  them  at  a  distance,  unknown  to  the  princess.  I  was 
to  be  on  duty  that  night  at  a  dance  given  in  honor  of  the 
French  envoys  who  had  just  arrived,  bringing  with  them 
commission  of  special  ambassador  to  De  Longueville  to 
negotiate  the  treaty  of  marriage,  and  it  was  impossible  for 
me  to  go.  Mary  was  going  partly  to  avoid  this  ball,  and 
her  willful  persistency  made  Henry  very  angry.  I  regret 
ted  that  I  could  not  go,  but  I  promised  Jane  I  would  send 
Brandon  in  my  place,  and  he  would  answer  the  purpose  of 
protection  far  better  than  I.  I  suggested  that  Brandon 
take  with  him  a  man,  but  Jane,  who  was  in  mortal  fear  of 
Mary,  would  not  listen  to  it.  So  it  was  agreed  that  Bran- 


THE  TROUBLE  IN  BILLINGSGATE  WARD      III 

don  should  meet  Jane  at  a  given  place  and  learn  the  par 
ticulars,  and  this  plan  was  carried  out. 

Brandon  went  up  to  London  and  saw  Jane,  and  before 
the  appointed  time  hid  himself  behind  a  hedge  near  the 
private  gate  through  which  the  girls  intended  to  take  their 
departure  from  Bridewell. 

They  would  leave  about  dusk  and  return,  so  Mary  said, 
before  it  grew  dark. 

The  citizens  of  London  at  that  time  paid  very  little 
attention  to  the  law  requiring  them  to  hang  out  their 
lights,  and  when  it  was  dark  it  was  dark. 

Scarcely  was  Brandon  safely  ensconced  behind  a  clump 
of  arbor  vitae  when  whom  should  he  see  coming  down  the 
path  toward  the  gate  but  his  grace,  the  Duke  of  Bucking 
ham.  He  was  met  by  one  of  the  Bridewell  servants  who 
was  in  attendance  upon  the  princess. 

"Yes,  your  grace,  this  is  the  gate,"  said  the  girl.  "You 
can  hide  yourself  and  watch  them  as  they  go.  They  will 
pass  out  on  this  path.  As  I  said,  I  do  not  know  where 
they  are  going ;  I  only  overheard  them  say  they  would  go 
out  at  this  gate  just  before  dark.  I  am  sure  they  go  on 
some  errand  of  gallantry,  which  your  grace  will  soon 
learn,  I  make  no  doubt." 

He  replied  that  he  "would  take  care  of  that." 

Brandon  did  not  see  where  Buckingham  hid  himself,  but 
soon  the  two  innocent  adventurers  came  down  the  path, 
attired  in  the  short  skirts  and  bonnets  of  orange  girls,  and 
let  themselves  out  at  the  gate.  Buckingham  followed  them 
and  Brandon  quickly  followed  him.  The  girls  passed 
through  a  little  postern  in  the  wall  opposite  Bridewell 
House  and  walked  rapidly  up  Fleet  Ditch ;  climbed  Lud- 
gate  Hill ;  passed  Paul's  church ;  turned  toward  the  river 
down  Bennett  Hill ;  to  the  left  on  Thames  street ;  then  on 


112      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

past  the  Bridge,  following-  Lower  Thames  street  to  the 
neighborhood  of  Fish-street  Hill,  where  they  took  an  alley 
leading  up  toward  East  Cheap  to  Grouche's  house. 

It  was  a  brave  thing  for  the  girl  to  do,  and  showed  the 
determined  spirit  that  dwelt  in  her  soft  white  breast. 
Aside  from  the  real  dangers,  there  was  enough  to  deter 
any  woman,  I  should  think. 

Jane  wept  all  the  way  over,  but  Mary  never  flinched. 

There  were  great  mud-holes  where  one  sank  ankle-deep, 
for  no  one  paved  their  streets  at  that  time,  strangely 
enough  preferring  to  pay  the  sixpence  fine  per  square 
yard  for  leaving  it  undone.  At  one  place,  Brandon  told 
me,  a  load  of  hay  blocked  the  streets,  compelling  them 
to  squeeze  between  the  houses  and  the  hay.  He  could 
hardly  believe  the  girls  had  passed  that  way,  as  he  had  not 
always  been  able  to  keep  them  in  view,  but  had  sometimes 
to  follow  them  by  watching  Buckingham.  He,  however, 
kept  as  close  as  possible,  and  presently  saw  them  turn 
down  Grouche's  alley  and  enter  his  house. 

Upon  learning  where  they  had  stopped,  Buckingham 
hurriedly  took  himself  off,  and  Brandon  waited  for  the 
girls  to  come  out.  It  seemed  a  very  long  time  that  they 
were  in  the  wretched  place,  and  darkness  had  well  de 
scended  upon  London  when  they  emerged. 

Mary  soon  noticed  that  a  man  was  following  them,  and 
as  she  did  not  know  who  he  was,  became  greatly  alarmed. 
The  object  of  her  journey  had  been  accomplished  now,  so 
the  spur  of  a  strong  motive  to  keep  her  courage  up  was 
lacking. 

"Jane,  some  one  is  following  us,"  she  whispered. 

"Yes,"  answered  Jane  with  an  unconcern  that  surprised 
Mary,  for  she  knew  Jane  was  a  coward  from  the  top  of 
her  brown  head  to  the  tip  of  her  little  pink  heels. 


THE  TROUBLE  IN  BILLINGSGATE  WARD      113 

"Oh,  if  I  had  only  taken  your  advice,  Jane,  and  had 
never  come  to  this  wretched  place ;  and  to  think,  too,  that 
I  came  here  only  to  learn  the  worst.  Shall  we  ever  get 
home  alive,  do  you  think  ?" 

They  hurried  on,  the  man  behind  them  taking  less  care 
to  remain  unseen  than  he  did  when  coming.  Mary's  fears 
grew  upon  her  as  she  heard  his  step  and  saw  his  form  per 
sistently  following  them,  and  she  clutched  Jane  by  the 
arm. 

"It  is  all  up  with  us,  I  know.  I  would  give  everything 
I  have  or  ever  expect  to  have  on  earth  for — for  Master 
Brandon  at  this  moment."  She  thought  of  him  as  the  one 
person  best  able  to  defend  her. 

This  was  only  too  welcome  an  opportunity,  and  Jane 
said:  "That  is  Master  Brandon  following  us.  If  we 
wait  a  few  seconds  he  will  be  here,"  and  she  called  to  him 
before  Mary  could  interpose. 

Now  this  disclosure  operated  in  two  ways.  Brandon's 
presence  was,  it  is  true,  just  what  Mary  had  so  ardently 
wished,  but  the  danger,  and,  therefore,  the  need,  was 
gone  when  she  found  that  the  man  who  was  following 
them  had  no  evil  intent.  Two  thoughts  quickly  flashed 
through  the  girl's  mind.  She  was  angry  with  Brandon 
for  having  cheated  her  out  of  so  many  favors  and  for  hav 
ing  slighted  her  love,  as  she  had  succeeded  in  convincing 
herself  was  the  case,  all  of  which  Grouche  had  confirmed 
by  telling  her  he  was  false.  Then  she  had  been  discov 
ered  in  doing  what  she  knew  she  should  have  left  un 
done,  and  what  she  was  anxious  to  conceal  from  every 
one;  and,  worst  of  all,  had  been  discovered  by  the  very 
person  from  whom  she  was  most  anxious  to  hide  it. 

So  she  turned  upon  Jane  angrily,  "Jane  Bolingbroke, 


114      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

you  shall  leave  me  as  soon  as  we  get  back  to  Greenwich 
for  this  betrayal  of  my  confidence." 

She  was  not  afraid  now  that  the  danger  was  over,  and 
feared  no  new  danger  with  Brandon  at  hand  to  protect  her, 
for  in  her  heart  she  felt  that  to  overcome  a  few  fiery  drag 
ons  and  a  company  or  so  of  giants  would  be  a  mere  pas 
time  to  him ;  yet  see  how  she  treated  him.  The  girls  had 
stopped  when  Jane  called  Brandon,  and  he  was  at  once  by 
their  side  with  uncovered  head,  hoping  for,  and,  of  course, 
expecting,  a  warm  welcome.  But  even  Brandon,  with  his 
fund  of  worldly  philosophy,  had  not  learned  not  to  put 
his  trust  in  princesses,  and  his  surprise  was  benumbing 
when  Mary  turned  angrily  upon  him. 

"Master  Brandon,  your  impudence  in  following  us 
shall  cost  you  dearly.  We  do  not  desire  your  company, 
and  will  thank  you  to  leave  us  to  our  own  affairs,  as  we 
wish  you  to  attend  exclusively  to  yours." 

This  from  the  girl  who  had  given  him  so  much  within 
less  than  a  week !  Poor  Brandon ! 

Jane,  who  had  called  him  up,  and  was  the  cause  of  his 
following  them,  began  to  weep. 

"Sir,"  said  she,  "forgive  me ;  it  was  not  my  fault ;  she 
had  just  said — "  Slap!  came  Mary's  hand  on  Jane's 
mouth ;  and  Jane  was  marched  off  weeping  bitterly. 

The  girls  had  started  up  toward  East  Cheap  when  they 
left  Grouche's,  intending  to  go  home  by  an  upper  route, 
and  now  they  walked  rapidly  in  that  direction.  Brandon 
continued  to  follow  them,  notwithstanding  what  Mary  had 
said,  and  she  thanked  him  and  her  God  ever  after  that  he 
did. 

They  had  been  walking  not  more  than  five  minutes, 
when,  just  as  the  girls  turned  a  corner  into  a  secluded  lit 
tle  street,  winding  its  way  among  the  fish  warehouses,  four 


THE  TROUBLE  IN  BILLINGSGATE  WARD      115 

horsemen  passed  Brandon  in  evident  pursuit  of  them. 
Brandon  hurried  forward,  but  before  he  reached  the  cor 
ner  heard  screams  of  fright,  and  as  he  turned  into  the 
street  distinctly  saw  that  two  of  the  men  had  dismounted 
and  were  trying  to  overtake  the  fleeing  girls.  Fright 
lent  wings  to  their  feet,  and  their  short  skirts  affording 
freedom  to  their  limbs,  they  were  giving  the  pursuers  a 
warm  little  race,  screaming  at  every  step  to  the  full  limit 
of  their  voices.  How  they  did  run  and  scream !  It  was 
but  a  moment  till  Brandon  came  up  with  the  pursuers, 
who,  all  unconscious  that  they  in  turn  were  pursued,  did 
not  expect  an  attack  from  the  rear.  The  men  remaining 
on  horseback  shouted  an  alarm  to  their  comrades,  but  so 
intent  were  the  latter  in  their  pursuit  that  they  did  not 
hear.  One  of  the  men  on  foot  fell  dead,  pierced  through 
the  back  of  the  neck  by  Brandon's  sword,  before  either 
was  aware  of  his  presence.  The  other  turned,  but  was  a 
corpse  before  he  could  cry  out.  The  girls  had  stopped  a 
short  distance  ahead,  exhausted  by  their  flight.  Mary 
had  stumbled  and  fallen,  but  had  risen  again,  and  both 
were  now  leaning  against  a  wall,  clinging  to  each  other, 
a  picture  of  abject  terror.  Brandon  ran  to  the  girls,  but 
by  the  time  he  reached  them  the  two  men  on  horseback 
were  there  also,  hacking  away  at  him  from  their  saddles. 
Brandon  did  his  best  to  save  himself  from  being  cut  to 
pieces  and  the  girls  from  being  trampled  under  foot  by 
the  prancing  horses.  A  narrow  jutting  of  the  wall,  a  foot 
or  two  in  width,  a  sort  of  flying  buttress,  gave  him  a  little 
advantage,  and  up  into  the  slight  shelter  of  the  corner 
thus  formed  he  thrust  the  girls,  and  with  his  back  to  them, 
faced  his  unequal  foe  with  drawn  sword.  Fortunately  the 
position  allowed  only  one  horse  to  attack  them.  Two  men 
on  foot  would  have  been  less  in  each  other's  wav  and 


Il6      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

much  more  effective.  The  men,  however,  stuck  to  their 
horses,  and  one  of  them  pressed  the  attack,  striking  at 
Brandon  most  viciously.  It  being  dark,  and  the  distance 
deceptive,  the  horseman's  sword  at  last  struck  the  wall,  a 
flash  of  sparks  flying  in  its  trail,  and  lucky  it  was,  or  this 
story  would  have  ended  here.  Thereupon  Brandon  thrust 
his  sword  into  the  horse's  throat,  causing  it  to  rear  back 
ward,  plunging  and  lunging  into  the  street,  where  it  fell, 
holding  its  rider  by  the  leg  against  the  cobble-stones  of  a 
little  gutter. 

A  cry  from  the  fallen  horseman  brought  his  companion 
to  his  side,  and  gave  Brandon  an  opportunity  to  escape 
with  the  girls.  Of  this  he  took  advantage,  you  may  be 
sure,  for  one  of  his  mottoes  was,  that  the  greatest  fool  in 
the  world  is  he  who  does  not  early  in  life  learn  how  and 
when  to  run. 

In  the  light  of  the  sparks  from  the  sword-stroke  upon 
the  wall,  brief  as  it  was,  Brandon  recognized  the  face  of 
Buckingham,  from  which  the  mask  had  fallen.  Of  this 
he  did  not  speak  to  any  one  till  long  afterward,  and  his 
silence  was  almost  his  undoing. 

How  often  a  word  spoken  or  unspoken  may  have  the 
very  deuce  in  it  either  way. 

The  girls  were  nearly  dead  from  fright,  and  in  order  to 
make  any  sort  of  progress  Brandon  had  to  carry  the  prin 
cess  and  help  Jane  until  he  thought  they  were  out  of  dan 
ger.  Jane  soon  recovered,  but  Mary  did  not  seem  anx 
ious  to  walk,  and  lay  with  her  head  upon  Brandon's 
shoulder,  apparently  contented  enough. 

In  a  few  minutes  Jane  said,  "If  you  can  walk  now,  my 
lady,  I  think  you  had  better.  We  shall  soon  be  near 
Fishmonger's  Hall,  where  some  one  is  sure  to  be  standing 
$t  this  hour," 


"BRANDON  THRUST  HIS  S^ORD 
INTO  THE  HORSE'S  THROAT." 


THE  TROUBLE  IN  BILLINGSGATE  WARD      117 

Mary  said  nothing  in  reply  to  Jane,  but,  as  Brandon  fell 
a  step  or  two  behind  at  a  narrow  crossing,  whispered: 

"'Forgive  me,  forgive  me ;  I  will  do  any  penance  you 
ask ;  I  am  unworthy  to  speak  your  name.  I  owe  you  my 
life  and  more — and  more  a  thousand  times."  At  this  she 
lifted  her  arm  and  placed  her  hand  upon  his  cheek  and 
neck.  She  then  learned  for  the  first  time  that  he  was 
wounded,  and  the  tears  came  softly  as  she  slipped  from 
his  arms  to  the  ground.  She  walked  beside  him  quietly 
for  a  little  time,  then,  taking  his  hand  in  both  of  hers, 
gently  lifted  it  to  her  lips  and  laid  it  upon  her  breast. 
Half  an  hour  afterward  Brandon  left  the  girls  at  Bridewell 
House,  went  over  to  the  Bridge  where  he  had  left  his 
horse  at  a  hostelry,  and  rode  down  to  Greenwich. 

So  Mary  had  made  her  trip  to  Grouche's.  but  it  was 
labor  worse  than  lost.  Grouche  had  told  her  nothing  she 
wanted  to  know,  though  much  that  he  supposed  she  would 
like  to  learn.  He  had  told  her  she  had  many  lovers,  a 
fact  which  her  face  and  form  would  make  easy  enough 
to  discover.  He  informed  her  also  that  she  had  a  low 
born  lover,  and  in  order  to  put  a  little  evil  in  with  the 
good  fortune  and  give  what  he  said  an  air  of  truth,  he 
added  to  Mary's  state  of  unrest  more  than  he  thought 
by  telling  her  that  her  low-born  lover  was  false.  He 
thought  to  flatter  her  by  predicting  that  she  would  soon 
marry  a  very  great  prince  or  nobleman,  the  indications 
being  in  favor  of  the  former,  and,  in  place  of  this  making 
her  happy,  she  wished  the  wretched  soothsayer  in  the  bot 
tomless  pit — he  and  all  his  prophecies;  herself,  too,  for 
going  to  him.  His  guesses  were  pretty  shrewd ;  that  is, 
admitting  he  did  not  know  who  Mary  was,  which  she  at 
least  supposed  was  the  case.  So  Mary  wept  that  night 
and  moaned  and  moaned  because  she  had  gone  to 


Ii8      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

Grouche's.  It  had  added  infinitely  to  the  pain  of  which 
her  heart  was  already  too  full,  and  made  her  thoroughly 
wretched  and  unhappy.  As  usual  though,  with  the 
blunders  of  stubborn,  self-willed  people,  some  one  else 
had  to  pay  the  cost  of  her  folly.  Brandon  was  paymaster 
in  this  case,  and  when  you  see  how  dearly  he  paid,  and 
how  poorly  she  requited  the  debt,  I  fear  you  will  despise 
her.  Wait,  though!  Be  not  hasty.  The  right  of  judg 
ment  belongs  to — you  know  whom.  No  man  knows  an 
other  man's  heart,  much  less  a  woman's,  so  how  can  he 
judge?  We  shall  all  have  more  than  enough  of  judging 
by  and  by.  So  let  us  put  off  for  as  many  to-morrows  as 
possible  the  thing  that  should  be  left  undone  to-day. 


CHAPTER  IX 

PUT  NOT  YOUR  TRUST  IN  PRINCESSES 

I  thought  the  king's  dance  that  night  would  never  end, 
so  fond  were  the  Frenchmen  of  our  fair  ladies,  and  I  was 
more  than  anxious  to  see  Brandon  and  learn  the  issue  of 
the  girls'  escapade,  as  I  well  knew  the  danger  attending 
it. 

All  things,  however,  must  end,  so  early  in  the  morning 
I  hastened  to  our  rooms,  where  I  found  Brandon  lying  in 
his  clothes,  everything  saturated  with  blood  from  a  dozen 
sword  cuts.  He  was  very  weak,  and  I  at  once  had  in  a 
barber,  who  took  off  his  shirt  of  mail  and  dressed  his 
wounds.  He  then  dropped  into  a  deep  sleep,  while  I 
watched  the  night  out.  Upon  awakening  Brandon  told 
me  all  that  had  happened,  but  asked  me  to  say  nothing  of 
his  illness,  as  he  wished  to  keep  the  fact  of  his  wounds  se 
cret  in  order  that  he  might  better  conceal  the  cause  of 
them.  But,  as  I  told  you,  he  did  not  speak  of  Bucking 
ham's  part  in  the  affray. 

I  saw  the  princess  that  afternoon,  and  expected,  of 
course,  she  would  inquire  for  her  defender.  One  who 
had  given  such  timely  help  and  who  was  suffering  so  much 
on  her  account  was  surely  worth  a  little  solicitude;  but 
not  a  word  did  she  ask.  She  did  not  come  near  me,  but 
made  a  point  of  avoidance,  as  I  could  plainly  see.  The 
next  morning  she,  with  Jane,  went  over  to  Scotland  Pal 
ace  without  so  much  as  a  breath  of  inquiry  from  either  of 
them.  This  heartless  conduct  enraged  me;  but  I  was 

(i '9) 


120      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

glad  to  learn  afterward  that  Jane's  silence  was  at  Mary's 
command — that  bundle  of  selfishness  fearing  that  any 
solicitude,  however  carefully  shown  upon  her  part,  might 
reveal  her  secret. 

It  seems  that  Mary  had  recent  intelligence  of  the  for 
ward  state  of  affairs  in  the  marriage  negotiations,  and 
felt  that  a  discovery  by  her  brother  of  what  she  had  done, 
especially  in  view  of  the  disastrous  results,  would  send  her 
to  France  despite  all  the  coaxing  she  could  do  from  then 
till  doomsday. 

It  was  a  terrible  fate  hanging  over  her,  doubly  so  in 
view  of  the  fact  that  she  loved  another  man ;  and  looking 
back  at  it  all  from  the  vantage  point  of  time,  I  can  not 
wonder  that  it  drove  other  things  out  of  her  head  and 
made  her  seem  selfish  in  her  frightened  desire  to  save  her 
self. 

About  twelve  o'clock  of  the  following  night  I  was  awak 
ened  by  a  knock  at  my  door,  and,  upon  opening,  in  walked 
a  sergeant  of  the  sheriff  of  London  with  four  yeomen  at 
his  heels. 

The  sergeant  asked  if  one  Charles  Brandon  was  present, 
and  upon  my  affirmative  answer  demanded  that  he  be 
forthcoming.  I  told  the  sergeant  that  Brandon  was  con 
fined  to  his  bed  with  illness,  whereupon  he  asked  to  be 
shown  to  his  room. 

It  was  useless  to  resist  or  to  evade,  so  I  awakened 
Brandon  and  took  the  sergeant  in.  Here  he  read  his  war 
rant  to  arrest  Charles  Brandon,  Esquire,  for  the  murder  of 
two  citizens  of  London,  perpetrated,  done  and  committed 
upon  the  night  of  such  and  such  a  day,  of  this  year  of  our 
Lord,  1514.  Brandon's  hat  had  been  found  by  the  side  of 
the  dead  men,  and  the  authorities  had  received  informa- 


PUT  NOT  YOUR  TRUST  IN  PRINCESSES       121 

tion  from  a  high  source  that  Brandon  was  the  guilty  per 
son.  That  high  source  was  evidently  Buckingham. 

When  the  sergeant  found  Brandon  covered  with  wounds 
there  was  no  longer  any  doubt,  and  although  hardly  able 
to  lift  his  hand  he  wras  forced  to  dress  and  go  with  them. 
A  horse  litter  was  procured  and  we  all  started  to  London. 

While  Brandon  was  dressing,  I  said  I  would  at  once  go 
and  awaken  the  king,  who  I  knew  would  pardon  the 
offense  when  he  heard  my  story,  but  Brandon  asked  the 
sergeant  to  leave  us  to  ourselves  for  a  short  time,  and 
closed  the  door. 

"Please  do  nothing  of  the  sort,  Caskoden,"  said  he; 
"if  you  tell  the  king  I  will  declare  there  is  not  one  word  of 
truth  in  your  story.  There  is  only  one  person  in  the  world 
who  may  tell  of  that  night's  happenings,  and  if  she  does 
not  they  shall  remain  untold.  She  will  make  it  all  right 
at  once,  I  know.  I  would  not  do  her  the  foul  wrong  to 
think  for  one  instant  that  she  will  fail.  You  do  not  know 
her ;  she  sometimes  seems  selfish,  but  it  is  thoughtlessness 
fostered  by  flattery,  and  her  heart  is  right.  I  would 
trust  her  with  my  life.  If  you  breathe  a  word  of  what  I 
have  told  you,  you  may  do  more  harm  than  you  can  ever 
remedy,  and  I  ask  you  to  say  nothing  to  any  one.  If  the 
princess  would  not  liberate  me  ....  but  that  is  not  to  be 
thought  of.  Never  doubt  that  she  can  and  will  do  it  bet 
ter  than  you  think.  She  is  all  gold.'' 

This,  of  course,  silenced  me,  as  I  did  not  knowr  what 
new  danger  I  might  create,  nor  how  I  might  mar  the  mat 
ter  I  so  much  wished  to  mend.  I  did  not  tell  Brandon 
that  the  girls  had  left  Greenwich,  nor  of  my  undefined, 
and,  perhaps,  unfounded  fear  that  Alary  might  not  act  as 
he  thought  she  would  in  a  great  emergency,  but  silently 


122      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

helped  him  to  dress  and  went  to  London  along  with  him 
and  the  sheriff's  sergeant. 

Brandon  was  taken  to  Newgate,  the  most  loathsome 
prison  in  London  at  that  time,  it  being  used  for  felons 
while  Ludgate  was  for  debtors.  Here  he  was  thrown 
into  an  underground  dungeon  foul  with  water  that  seeped 
through  the  old  masonry  from  the  moat,  and  alive  with 
every  noisome  thing  that  creeps.  There  was  no  bed,  no 
stool,  no  floor,  not  even  a  wisp  of  a  straw;  simply  the 
reeking  stone  walls,  covered  with  fungus,  and  the  window- 
less  arch  overhead.  One  could  hardly  conceive  a  more 
horrible  place  in  which  to  spend  even  a  moment.  I  had  a 
glimpse  of  it  by  the  light  of  the  keeper's  lantern  as  they 
put  him  in,  and  it  seemed  to  me  a  single  night  in  that 
awful  place  would  have  killed  me  or  driven  me  mad.  I 
protested  and  begged  and  tried  to  bribe,  but  it  was  all  of 
no  avail,  the  keeper  had  been  bribed  before  I  arrived. 
Although  it  could  do  no  possible  good,  I  was  glad  to  stand 
outside  the  prison  walls  in  the  drenching  rain,  all  the  rest 
of  that  wretched  night,  that  I  might  be  as  near  as  possible 
to  my  friend  and  suffer  a  little  with  him. 

Was  not  I,  too,  greatly  indebted  to  him?  Had  he  not 
imperiled  his  life  and  given  his  blood  to  save  the  honor 
of  Jane  as  well  as  of  Mary — Jane,  dearer  to  me  a  thousand 
fold  than  the  breath  of  my  nostrils  ?  And  was  he  not  suf-. 
fering  at  that  moment  because  of  this  great  service,  per-, 
formed  at  my  request  and  in  my  place  ?  If  my  whole  soul 
had  not  gone  out  to  him  I  should  have  been  the  most  un 
grateful  wretch  on  earth;  worse  even  than  a  pair  of  sel 
fish,  careless  girls.  But  it  did  go  out  to  him,  and  I  be 
lieve  I  would  have  bartered  my  life  to  have  freed  him  from 
another  hour  in  that  dungeon. 

As  soon  as  the  prison  gates  were  opened  next  morning, 


PUT  NOT  YOUR  TRUST  IN  PRINCESSES       123 

I  again  importuned  the  keeper  to  give  Brandon  a  more 
comfortable  cell,  but  his  reply  was  that  such  crimes  had 
of  late  become  so  frequent  in  London  that  no  favor  could 
be  shown  those  who  committed  them,  and  that  men  like 
Brandon,  who  ought  to  know  and  act  better,  deserved  the 
maximum  punishment. 

I  told  him  he  was  wrong  in  this  case ;  that  I  knew  the 
facts,  and  everything  would  be  clearly  explained  that  very 
day  and  Brandon  released. 

"That's  all  very  well,"  responded  the  stubborn  creat 
ure;  "nobody  is  guilty  who  comes  here;  they  can  every 
one  prove  innocence  clearly  and  at  once.  Notwithstand 
ing,  they  nearly  all  hang,  and  frequently,  for  variety's 
sake,  are  drawn  and  quartered." 

I  waited  about  Newgate  until  nine  o'clock,  and  as  I 
passed  out  met  Buckingham  and  his  man  Johnson,  a  sort 
of  lawyer-knight,  going  in.  I  went  down  to  the  palace  at 
Greenwich,  and  finding  that  the  girls  were  still  at  Scot 
land,  rode  over  at  once  to  see  them. 

Upon  getting  Mary  and  Jane  to  myself,  I  told  them  of 
Brandon's  arrest  on  the  charge  of  murder,  and  of  his  con 
dition,  lying  half  dead  from  wounds  and  loss  of  blood,  in 
that  frightful  dungeon.  The  tale  moved  them  greatly, 
and  they  both  gave  way  to  tears.  I  think  Mary  had  heard 
of  the  arrest  before,  as  she  did  not  seem  surprised. 

"Do  you  think  he  will  tell  the  cause  of  the  killing?"  she 
asked. 

"I  know  he  will  not,"  I  answered;  "but  I  also  know 
that  he  knows  you  will,"  and  I  looked  straight  into  her 
face. 

"Certainly  we  will,"  said  Jane;  "we  will  go  to  the 
king  at  once,"  and  she  was  on  the  '  qui  vive  to  start  imme 
diately. 


124      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

Mary  did  not  at  once  consent  to  Jane's  proposition,  but 
sat  in  a  reverie,  looking  with  tearful  eyes  into  vacancy,  ap 
parently  absorbed  in  thought.  After  a  little  pressing  from 
us  she  said:  "I  suppose  it  will  have  to  be  done;  I  can 
see  no  other  way ;  but  blessed  Mother  Mary !  .  .  .  .  help 
me!" 

The  girls  made  hasty  preparations,  and  we  all  started 
back  to  Greenwich  that  Mary  might  tell  the  king.  On 
the  road  over,  I  stopped  at  Newgate  to  tell  Brandon  that 
the  princess  would  soon  have  him  out,  knowing  how  wel 
come  liberty  would  be  at  her  hands;  but  I  was  not  per 
mitted  to  see  him. 

I  swallowed  my  disappointment,  and  thought  it  would 
be  only  a  matter  of  a  few  hours  delay — the  time  spent  in 
riding  down  to  Greenwich  and  sending  back  a  messenger. 
So,  light-hearted  enough  at  the  prospect,  I  soon  joined  the 
girls,  and  we  cantered  briskly  home. 

After  waiting  a  reasonable  time  for  Mary  to  see  the 
king,  I  sought  her  again  to  learn  where  and  from  whom 
I  should  receive  the  order  for  Brandon's  release,  and 
when  I  should  go  to  London  to  bring  him. 

What  was  my  surprise  and  disgust  when  Mary  told  me 
she  had  not  yet  seen  the  king — that  she  had  waited  to  "eat, 
and  bathe,  and  dress,"  and  that  "a  few  moments  more  or 
less  could  make  no  difference." 

"My  God !  your  highness,  did  I  not  tell  you  that  the 
man  who  saved  your  life  and  honor — who  is  covered  with 
/wounds  received  in  your  defense,  and  almost  dead  from 
loss  of  blood,  spilled  that  you  might  be  saved  from  worse 
than  death — is  now  lying  in  a  rayless  dungeon ;  a  place  of 
frightful  filth,  such  as  you  would  not  walk  across  for  all 
the  wealth  of  London  Bridge;  is  surrounded  by  loath 
some,  creeping  things  that  would  sicken  you  but  to  think 


PUT  NOT  YOUR  TRUST  IN  PRINCESSES       12$ 

of;  is  resting  under  a  charge  whose  penalty  is  that  he  be 
hanged,  drawn  and  quartered  ?  and  yet  you  stop  to  eat  and 
bathe  and  dress.  In  God's  name,  Mary  Tudor !  of  what 
stuff  are  you  made?  If  he  had  waited  but  one  little  min 
ute;  had  stopped  for  the  drawing  of  a  breath;  had  held 
back  for  but  one  faltering  thought  from  the  terrible  odds 
of  four  swords  to  one,  what  would  you  now  be?  Think, 
princess,  think !" 

I  was  a  little  frightened  at  the  length  to  which  my  feel 
ing  had  driven  me,  but  Mary  took  it  all  very  well,  and  said 
slowly  and  absent-mindedly: 

"You  are  right ;  I  will  go  at  once ;  I  despise  my  selfish 
neglect.  There  is  no  other  way ;  I  have  racked  my  brain 
— there  is  no  other  way.  It  must  be  done,  and  I  will  go  at 
once  and  do  it." 

"And  I  will  go  with  you,"  said  I. 

"I  do  not  blame  you,"  she  said,  "for  doubting  me,  since 
I  have  failed  once ;  but  you  need  not  doubt  me  now.  It 
shall  be  done,  and  without  delay,  regardless  of  the  cost  to 
me.  I  have  thought  and  thought  to  find  some  other  way 
to  liberate  him,  but  there  is  none ;  I  will  go  this  instant." 

"And  I  will  go  with  you,  Lady  Mary,"  said  I,  doggedly. 

She  smiled  at  my  persistency,  and  took  me  by  the  hand, 
saying,  "Come!" 

We  at  once  went  off  to  find  the  king,  but  the  smile  had 
faded  from  Mary's  face,  and  she  looked  as  if  she  were  go 
ing  to  execution.  Every  shade  of  color  had  fled,  and  her 
lips  were  the  hue  of  ashes. 

We  found  the  king  in  the  midst  of  his  council,  with  the 
French  ambassadors,  discussing  the  all-absorbing  topic  of 
the  marriage  treaty;  and  Henry,  fearing  an  outbreak, 
refused  to  see  the  princess.  As  usual,  opposition  but 
Spurred  her  determination,  so  she  sat  down  in  the 


126      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

room  and  said  she  would  not  stir  until  she  had  seen  the 
king. 

After  we  had  waited  a  few  minutes,  one  of  the  king's 
pages  came  up  and  said  he  had  been  looking  all  over  the 
palace  for  me,  and  that  the  king  desired  my  presence  im 
mediately.  I  went  in  with  the  page  to  the  king,  leaving 
Mary  alone  and  very  melancholy  in  the  ante-chamber. 

Upon  entering  the  king's  presence  he  asked,  "Where 
have  you  been,  Sir  Edwin  ?  I  have  almost  killed  a  good 
half-dozen  pages  hunting  you.  I  want  you  to  prepare  im 
mediately  to  go  to  Paris  with  an  embassy  to  his  majesty, 
King  Louis.  You  will  be  the  interpreter.  The  ambassa 
dor  you  need  not  know.  Make  ready  at  once.  The  em 
bassy  will  leave  London  from  the  Tabard  Inn  one  hour 
hence." 

Could  a  command  to  duty  have  come  at  a  more  inop 
portune  time?  I  was  distracted;  and  upon  leaving  the 
king  went  at  once  to  seek  the  Lady  Mary  where  I  had  left 
her  in  the  ante-room.  She  had  gone,  so  I  went  to  her 
apartments,  but  could  not  find  her.  I  went  to  the  queen's 
salon,  but  she  was  not  there,  and  I  traversed  that  old  ram 
bling  palace  from  one  end  to  the  other  without  finding 
her  or  Lady  Jane. 

The  king  had  told  me  the  embassy  would  be  a  secret 
one,  and  that  I  was  to  speak  of  it  to  nobody,  least  of  all  to 
the  Lady  Mary.  No  one  was  to  know  that  I  was  leaving 
England,  and  I  was  to  communicate  with  no  one  at  home 
while  in  France. 

The  king's  command  was  not  to  be  disobeyed ;  to  do  so 
would  be  as  much  as  my  life  was  worth,  but  besides  that, 
the  command  of  the  king  I  served  was  my  highest  duty, 
and  no  Caskoden  ever  failed  in  that.  I  may  not  be  as  tall 


PUT  NOT  YOUR  TRUST  IN  PRINCESSES       127 

as  some  men,  but  my  fidelity  and  honor — but  you  will  say 
I  boast. 

I  was  to  make  ready  my  bundle  and  ride  six  miles  to 
London  in  one  hour ;  and  almost  half  that  time  was  spent 
already.  I  was  sure  to  be  late,  so  I  could  not  waste  an 
other  minute. 

I  went  to  my  room  and  got  together  a  few  things  neces 
sary  for  my  journey,  but  did  not  take  much  in  the  way  of 
clothing,  preferring  to  buy  that  new  in  Paris,  where  I 
could  find  the  latest  styles  in  pattern  and  fabric. 

I  tried  to  assure  myself  that  Alary  would  see  the  king  at 
once  and  tell  him  all,  and  not  allow  my  dear  friend  Bran 
don  to  lie  in  that  terrible  place  another  night ;  yet  a  per 
sistent  fear  gnawed  at  my  heart,  and  a  sort  of  intuition, 
that  seemed  to  have  the  very  breath  of  certainty  in  its  fore 
boding,  made  me  doubt  her. 

As  I  could  find  neither  Alary  nor  Jane,  I  did  the  next 
best  thing:  I  wrote  a  letter  to  each  of  them,  urging  im 
mediate  action,  and  left  them  to  be  delivered  by  my  man 
Thomas,  who  was  one  of  those  trusty  souls  that  never  fail. 
I  did  not  tell  the  girls  I  was  about  to  start  for  France, 
but  intimated  that  I  was  compelled  to  leave  London  for 
a  time,  and  said :  "I  leave  the  fate  of  this  man,  to  whom 
we  all  owe  so  much,  in  your  hands,  knowing  full  well  how 
tender  you  will  be  of  him." 

I  was  away  from  home  nearly  a  month,  and  as  I  dared 
not  write,  and  even  Jane  did  not  know  where  I  was,  I  did 
not  receive,  or  expect,  any  letters.  The  king  had  ordered 
secrecy,  and  if  I  have  mingled  with  all  my  faults  a  single 
virtue  it  is  that  of  faithfulness  to  my  trust.  So  I  had  no 
news  from  England  and  sent  none  home. 

During  all  that  time  the  same  old  fear  lived  in  my  heart 
that  Mary  might  fail  to  liberate  Brandon.  She  knew  of 


128      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

the  negotiations  concerning  the  French  marriage,  as  we 
all  did,  although  only  by  an  indefinite  sort  of  hearsay, 
and  I  was  sure  the  half- founded  rumors  that  had  reached 
her  ears  had  long  since  become  certainties,  and  that  her 
heart  was  full  of  trouble  and  fear  of  her  violent  brother. 
She  would  certainly  be  at  her  coaxing  and  wheedling 
again  and  on  her  best  behavior,  and  I  feared  she  might  re 
frain  from  telling  Henry  of  her  trip  to  Grouche's,  know 
ing  how  severe  he  was  in  such  matters  and  how  furious 
he  was  sure  to  become  at  the  discovery.  I  was  certain 
it  was  this  fear  which  had  prevented  Mary  from  going 
directly  to  the  king  on  our  return  to  Greenwich  from 
Scotland,  and  knew  that  her  eating,  bathing  and  dressing 
were  but  an  excuse  for  a  breathing  spell  before  the 
dreaded  interview. 

This  fear  remained  with  me  all  the  time  I  was  away, 
but  when  I  reasoned  with  myself  I  would  smother  it  as 
well  as  I  could  with  argumentative  attempts  at  self-assur 
ance.  I  would  say  over  and  over  to  myself  that  Mary 
could  not  fail,  and  that  even  if  she  did,  there  was  Jane, 
dear,  sweet,  thoughtful,  unselfish  Jane,  who  would  not 
allow  her  to  do  so.  But  as  far  as  they  go,  our  intuitions 
— our  "feelings,"  as  we  call  them — are  worth  all  the  logic 
in  the  world,  and  you  can  say  what  you  will,  but  my  pre 
sentiments — I  speak  for  no  one  else — are  well  to  be 
minded.  There  is  another  sense  hidden  about  us  that  will 
develop  as  the  race  grows  older.  I  speak  to  posterity. 

In  proof  of  this  statement,  I  now  tell  you  that  when  I 
returned  to  London  I  found  Brandon  'still  in  the  terrible 
dungeon ;  and  worse  still,  he  had  been  tried  for  murder, 
and  had  been  condemned  to  be  hanged,  drawn  and  quar 
tered  on  the  second  Friday  following.  Hanged !  Drawn ! 


PUT  NOT  YOUR  TRUST  IN  PRINCESSES       129 

Quartered !  It  is  time  we  were  doing  away  with  such  bar 
barity. 

\Ye  will  now  go  back  a  month  for  the  purpose  of  look 
ing  up  the  doings  of  a  friend  of  ours,  his  grace,  the  Duke 
of  Buckingham. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fatal  battle  of  Billingsgate,  the 
barber  who  had  treated  Brandon's  wounds  had  been  called 
to  London  to  dress  a  bruised  knee  for  his  grace,  the  duke. 
In  the  course  of  the  operation,  an  immense  deal  of  infor 
mation  oozed  out  of  the  barber,  one  item  of  which  was 
that  he  had  the  night  before  dressed  nine  wounds,  great 
and  small,  for  Master  Brandon,  the  king's  friend.  This 
established  the  identity  of  the  man  who  had  rescued  the 
girls,  a  fact  of  which  Buckingham  had  had  his  suspicions 
all  along.  So  Brandon's  arrest  followed,  as  I  have  already 
related  to  you. 

I  afterward  learned  from  various  sources  how  this  no 
bleman  began  to  avenge  his  mishap  with  Brandon  at 
Mary's  ball  when  the  latter  broke  his  sword  point.  First, 
he  went  to  Newgate  and  gave  orders  to  the  keeper,  who 
was  his  tool,  to  allow  no  communication  with  the  prisoner, 
and  it  was  by  his  instructions  that  Brandon  had  been  con 
fined  in  the  worst  dungeon  in  London.  Then  he  went 
down  to  Greenwich  to  take  care  of  matters  there,  knowing 
that  the  king  would  learn  of  Brandon's  arrest  and  prob 
ably  take  steps  for  his  liberation  at  once. 

The  king  had  just  heard  of  the  arrest  when  Bucking 
ham  arrived,  and  the  latter  found  he  was  right  in  his  sur 
mise  that  his  majesty  would  at  once  demand  Brandon's 
release. 

When  the  duke  entered  the  king's  room  Henry  called  to 
him:  ''My  Lord,  you  are  opportunely  arrived.  So  good 
a  friend  of  the  people  of  London  can  help  us  greatly  this 


130      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

morning.  Our  friend  Brandon  has  been  arrested  for  the 
killing  of  two  men  night  before  last  at  Billingsgate  ward. 
I  am  sure  there  is  some  mistake,  and  that  the  good  sheriff 
has  the  wrong  man,  but  right  or  wrong,  we  want  him  out 
and  ask  your  good  offices." 

"I  shall  be  most  happy  to  serve  your  majesty,  and  will 
go  to  London  at  once  to  see  the  lord  mayor." 

In  the  afternoon  the  duke  returned  and  had  a  private 
audience  with  the  king. 

"I  did  as  your  majesty  requested  in  regard  to  Bran 
don's  release,"  he  said,  "but  on  investigation,  thought  it 
best  to  consult  you  again  before  proceeding  further.  I 
fear  there  is  no  doubt  that  Brandon  is  the  right  man.  It 
seems  he  was  out  with  a  couple  of  wenches  concerning 
whom  he  got  into  trouble  and  stabbed  two  men  in  the 
back.  It  is  a  very  aggravated  case  and  the  citizens  are 
much  incensed  about  it,  owing  partly  to  the  fact  that  such 
occurrences  have  been  so  frequent  of  late.  I  thought,  un 
der  the  circumstances,  and  in  view  of  the  fact  that  your 
majesty  will  soon  call  upon  the  city  for  a  loan  to  make  up 
the  Lady  Mary's  dower,  it  would  be  wise  not  to  antagon 
ize  them  in  this  matter,  but  to  allow  Master  Brandon  to 
remain  quietly  in  confinement  until  the  loan  is  completed 
and  then  we  can  snap  our  fingers  at  them." 

"We  will  snap  our  fingers  at  the  scurvy  burghers  now 
and  have  the  loan,  too,"  returned  Henry  angrily.  "I  want 
Brandon  liberated  at  once,  and  shall  expect  another  report 
from  you  immediately,  my  lord." 

Buckingham  felt  that  his  revenge  had  slipped  through 
his  fingers  this  time,  but  he  was  patient  where  evil  was  to 
be  accomplished  and  could  wait.  Then  it  was  that  the 
council  was  called  during  the  progress  of  which  Mary  and 
I  had  tried  to  obtain  an  audience  with  the  king. 


PUT  NOT  YOUR  TRUST  IN  PRINCESSES       131 

Buckingham  had  gone  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  queen, 
and  on  his  way  back  espied  Mary  waiting  for  the  king  in 
the  ante-room,  and  went  to  her. 

At  first  she  was  irritated  at  the  sight  of  this  man,  whom 
she  so  despised,  but  a  thought  came  to  her  that  she  might 
make  use  of  him.  She  knew  his  power  with  the  citizens 
and  city  authorities  of  London,  and  also  knew,  or  thought 
she  knew,  that  a  smile  from  her  could  accomplish  every 
thing  with  him.  She  had  ample  evidence  of  his  infatua 
tion,  and  she  hoped  that  she  could  procure  Brandon's 
liberty  through  Buckingham  without  revealing  her  dan 
gerous  secret. 

Much  to  the  duke's  surprise,  she  smiled  upon  him  and 
gave  a  cordial  welcome,  saying :  "My  lord,  you  have  been 
unkind  to  us  of  late  and  have  not  shown  us  the  light  of 
your  countenance.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  once  more ;  tell 
me  the  news." 

"I  can  not  say  there  is  much  of  interest.  I  have  learned 
the  new  dance  from  Caskoden,  if  that  is  news,  and  hope 
for  a  favor  at  our  next  ball  from  the  fairest  lady  in  the 
world." 

"And  quite  welcome,"  returned  Mary,  complacently 
appropriating  the  title,  "and  welcome  to  more  than  one,  I 
hope,  my  lord." 

This  graciousness  would  have  looked  suspicious  to  one 
with  less  vanity  than  Buckingham,  but  he  saw  no  craft  in 
it.  He  did  see,  however,  that  Mary  did  not  know  who 
had  attacked  her  in  Billingsgate,  and  he  felt  greatly  re 
lieved. 

The  duke  smiled  and  smirked,  and  was  enchanted  at  her 
kindness.  They  walked  down  the  corridor  talking  and 
laughing,  Mary  awaiting  an  opportunity  to  put  the  im 
portant  question  without  exciting  suspicion.  At  last  it 


132      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

came,  when  Buckingham,  half  inquiringly,  expressed  his 
surprise  that  Mary  should  be  found  sitting  at  the  king's 
door. 

"I  am  waiting  to  see  the  king,"  said  she.  "Little  Cas- 
koden's  friend,  Brandon,  has  been  arrested  for  a  brawl  of 
some  sort  over  in  London,  and  Sir  Edwin  and  Lady  Jane 
have  importuned  me  to  obtain  his  release,  which  I  have 
promised  to  do.  Perhaps  your  grace  will  allow  me  to 
petition  you  in  place  of  carrying  my  request  to  the  king. 
You  are  quite  as  powerful  as  his  majesty  in  London,  and 
I  should  like  to  ask  you  to  obtain  for  Master  Brandon 
his  liberty  at  once.  I  shall  hold  myself  infinitely  obliged, 
if  your  lordship  will  do  this  for  me."  She  smiled  upon 
him  her  sweetest  smile,  and  assumed  an  indifference  that 
would  have  deceived  any  one  but  Buckingham.  Upon 
him,  under  the  circumstances,  it  was  worse  than  wasted. 
Buckingham  at  once  consented,  and  said,  that  notwith 
standing  the  fact  that  he  did  not  like  Brandon,  to  oblige 
her  highness,  he  would  undertake  to  befriend  a  much 
more  disagreeable  person. 

"I  fear,"  he  said,  "it  will  have  to  be  done  secretly — 
by  conniving  at  his  escape  rather  than  by  an  order  for  his 
release.  The  citizens  are  greatly  aroused  over  the  alarm 
ing  frequency  of  such  occurrences,  and  as  many  of  the 
offenders  have  lately  escaped  punishment  by  reason  of 
court  interference,  I  fear  this  man  Brandon  will  have  to 
bear  the  brunt,  in  the  London  mind,  of  all  these  unpun 
ished  crimes.  It  will  be  next  to  impossible  to  liberate  him, 
except  by  arranging  privately  with  the  keeper  for  his  es 
cape.  He  could  go  down  into  the  country  and  wait  in 
seclusion  until  it  is  all  blown  over,  or  until  London  has  a 
new  victim,  and  then  an  order  can  be  made  pardoning  him, 
and  he  can  return." 


PUT  NOT  YOUR  TRUST  IN  PRINCESSES        133 

"Pardoning  him !  What  are  you  talking  of,  my  lord  ? 
He  has  done  nothing  to  be  pardoned  for.  He  should  be, 
and  shall  be,  rewarded."  Mary  spoke  impetuously,  but 
caught  herself  and  tried  to  remedy  her  blunder.  "That 
is,  if  I  have  heard  the  straight  of  it.  I  have  been  told  that 
the  killing  was  done  in  the  defense  of  two — women." 
Think  of  this  poor  unconscious  girl,  so  full  of  grief  and 
trouble,  talking  thus  to  Buckingham,  who  knew  so  much 
more  about  the  affair  than  even  she,  who  had  taken  so  act 
ive  a  part  in  it. 

"Who  told  you  of  it  ?"  asked  the  duke. 

Alary  saw  she  had  made  a  mistake,  and,  after  hesitat 
ing  for  a  moment,  answered:  "Sir  Edwin  Caskoden. 
He  had  it  from  Master  Brandon,  I  suppose."  Rather 
adroit  this  was,  but  equidistant  from  both  truth  and  effect 
iveness. 

"I  will  go  at  once  to  London  and  arrange  for  Brandon's 
escape,"  said  Buckingham,  preparing  to  leave.  "But  you 
must  not  divulge  the  fact  that  I  do  it.  It  would  cost  me 
all  the  favor  I  enjoy  with  the  people  of  London,  though  I 
would  willingly  lose  that  favor,  a  thousand  times  over,  for 
a  smile  from  you." 

She  gave  the  smile,  and  as  he  left,  followed  his  retiring 
figure  with  her  eyes,  and  thought:  "After  all,  he  has  a 
kind  heart." 

She  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  too,  for  she  felt  she  had 
accomplished  Brandon's  release,  and  still  retained  her  dan 
gerous  secret,  the  divulging  of  which,  she  feared,  would 
harden  Henry's  heart  against  her  blandishments  and 
strand  her  upon  the  throne  of  France. 

But  she  was  not  entirely  satisfied  with  the  arrangement. 
She  knew  that  her  obligation  to  Brandon  was  such  as  to 
demand  of  her  that  she  should  not  leave  the  matter  of  his 


134      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

release  to  any  other  person,  much  less  to  an  enemy  such  as 
f  Buckingham.     Yet  the  cost  of  his  freedom  by  a  direct  act 
I  of  her  own  would  be  so  great  that  she  was  tempted  to  take 
I  whatever  risk  there  might  be  in  the  way  that  had  opened 
V,  itself  to  her.     Not  that  she  would  not  have  made  the  sacri 
fice  willingly,  or  would  not  have  told  Henry  all  if  that 
were  the  only  chance  to  save  Brandon's  life,  but  the  other 
way,  the  one  she  had  taken  by  Buckingham's  help,  seemed 
safe,  and,  though  not  entirely  satisfying,  she  could  not  see 
how  it  could  miscarry.     Buckingham  was  notably  jealous 
of  his  knightly  word,  and  she  had  unbounded  faith  in  her 
influence  over  him.  In  short,  like  many  another  person, 
she  w7as  as  wrong  as  possible  just  at  the  time  when  she 
thought  she  was  entirely  right,  and  when  the  cost  of  a  mis 
take  was  at  its  maximum. 

She  recoiled  also  from  the  thought  of  Brandon's  "es 
cape,"  and  it  hurt  her  that  he  should  be  a  fugitive  from 
the  justice  that  should  reward  him,  yet  she  quieted  these 
disturbing  suggestions  with  the  thought  that  it  would  be 
only  for  a  short  time,  and  Brandon,  she  knew,  would  be 
only  too  glad  to  make  the  sacrifice  if  it  purchased  for  her 
freedom  from  the  worse  than  damnation  that  lurked  in  the 
French  marriage. 

All  this  ran  quickly  through  Mary's  mind,  and  brought 
relief ;  but  it  did  not  cure  the  uneasy  sense,  weighing  like 
lead  upon  her  heart,  that  she  should  take  no  chance  with 
this  man's  life,  and  should  put  no  further  weight  of  sacri 
fice  upon  him,  but  should  go  to  the  king  and  tell  him  a 
straightforward  story,  let  it  hurt  where  it  would.  With  a 
little  meditation,  however,  came  a  thought  which  decided 
the  question  and  absolutely  made  everything  bright  again 
for  her,  so  great  was  her  capability  for  distilling  light. 
She  would  go  at  once  to  Windsor  with  Jane,  and  would 


PUT  NOT  YOUR  TRUST  IN  PRINCESSES'       135 

dispatch  a  note  to  Brandon,  at  Newgate,  telling  him  upon 
his  escape  to  come  to  her.  He  might  remain  in  hiding  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Windsor,  and  she  could  see  him  every 
day.  The  time  had  come  to  Mary  when  to  "see  him 
every  day"  would  turn  Plutonian  shades  into  noonday 
brightness  and  weave  sunbeams  out  of  utter  darkness. 
With  Mary,  to  resolve  was  to  act ;  so  the  note  was  soon 
dispatched  by  a  page,  and  one  hour  later  the  girls  were  on 
their  road  to  Windsor. 

Buckingham  went  to  Newgate,  expecting  to  make  a  vir 
tue,  with  Alary,  out  of  the  necessity  imposed  by  the  king's 
command,  in  freeing  Brandon.  He  had  hoped  to  induce 
Brandon  to  leave  London  stealthily  and  immediately,  by 
representing  to  him  the  evil  consequences  of  a  break  be 
tween  the  citizens  and  the  king,  liable  to  grow  out  of  his 
release,  and  relied  on  Brandon's  generosity  to  help  him 
out ;  but  when  he  found  the  note  which  Mary's  page  had 
delivered  to  the  keeper  of  Newgate,  he  read  it  and  all  his 
plans  were  changed. 

He  caused  the  keeper  to  send  the  note  to  the  king,  sup 
pressing  the  fact  that  he,  Buckingham,  had  any  knowledge 
of  it.  The  duke  then  at  once  started  to  Greenwich,  where 
he  arrived  and  sought  the  king  a  few  minutes  before  the 
time  he  knew  the  messenger  with  Mary's  note  would  come. 
The  king  was  soon  found,  and  Buckingham,  in  apparent 
anger,  told  him  that  the  city  authorities  refused  to  deliver 
Brandon  except  upon  an  order  under  the  king's  seal. 

Henry  and  Buckingham  were  intensely  indignant  at  the 
conduct  of  the  scurvy  burghers,  and  an  immense  amount 
of  self-importance  was  displayed  and  shamefully  wasted. 
This  manifestation  was  at  its  highest  when  the  messenger 
from  Newgate  arrived  with  Mary's  poor  little  note  as  in 
tended  by  the  duke, 


136      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

The  note  was  handed  to  Henry,  who  read  aloud  as  fol 
lows  : 

"To  Master  Charles  Brandon: 

"Greeting — Soon  you  will  be  at  liberty;  perhaps,  ere 
this  is  to  your  hand.  Surely  would  I  not  leave  you  long 
in  prison.  I  go  to  Windsor  at  once,  there  to  live  in  the 
hope  that  I  may  see  you  speedily. 

"MARY." 

"What  is  this?"  cried  Henry.  "My  sister  writing  to 
Brandon?  God's  death!  My  Lord  of  Buckingham,  the 
suspicions  you  whispered  in  my  ear  may  have  some  truth. 
We  will  let  this  fellow  remain  in  Newgate,  and  allow  our 
good  people  of  London  to  take  their  own  course  with 
him." 

Buckingham  went  to  Windsor  next  day  and  told  Mary 
that  arrangements  had  been  made  the  night  before  for 
Brandon's  escape,  and  that  he  had  heard  that  Brandon  had 
left  for  New  Spain. 

Mary  thanked  the  duke,  but  had  no  smiles  for  any  one. 
Her  supply  was  exhausted. 

She  remained  at  Windsor  nursing  her  love  for  the  sake 
of  the  very  pain  it  brought  her,  and  dreading  the  battle  for 
more  than  life  itself  which  she  knew  she  should  soon  be 
called  upon  to  fight. 

At  times  she  would  fall  into  one  of  her  old  fits  of  anger 
because  Brandon  had  not  come  to  see  her  before  he  left, 
but  soon  the  anger  melted  into  tears,  and  the  tears  brought 
a  sort  of  joy  when  she  thought  that  he  had  run  away 
from  her  because  he  loved  her.  After  Brandon's  defense 
of  her  in  Billingsgate,,  Mary  had  begun  to  see  the  whole 
situation  differently,  and  everything  was  changed.  She 
still  saw  the  same  great  distance  between  them  as  be- 


PUT  NOT  YOUR  TRUST  IN  PRINCESSES       137 

fore,  but  with  this  difference,  she  was  looking  up  now. 
Before  that  event  he  had  been  plain  Charles  Brandon,  and 
she  the  Princess  Mary.  She  was  the  princess  still,  but  he 
was  a  demi-god.  No  mere  mortal,  thought  she,  could  be 
so  brave  and  strong  and  generous  and  wise ;  and  above  all, 
no  mere  mortal  could  vanquish  odds  of  four  to  one.  In 
the  night  she  would  lie  on  Jane's  arm,  and  amid  smothered 
sobs,  would  softly  talk  of  her  lover,  and  praise  his  beauty 
and  perfections,  and  pour  her  pathetic  little  tale  over  and 
over  again  into  Jane's  receptive  ear  and  warm  responsive 
heart ;  and  Jane  answered  with  soft  little  kisses  that  would 
have  consoled  Xiobe  herself.  Then  !Mary  would  tell  how 
the  doors  of  her  life,  at  the  ripe  age  of  eighteen,  were 
closed  forever  and  forever,  and  that  her  few  remaining 
years  would  be  but  years  of  waiting  for  the  end.  At  other 
times  she  would  brighten,  and  repeat  what  Brandon  had 
told  her  about  New  Spain ;  how  fortune's  door  was  open 
there  to  those  who  chose  to  come,  and  how  he,  the  best 
and  bravest  of  them  all,  would  surely  win  glory  and  for 
tune,  and  then  return  to  buy  her  from  her  brother  Henry 
with  millions  of  pounds  of  yellow  gold.  Ah,  she  would 
wait !  She  would  wait !  Like  Bayard  she  placed  her 
ransom  at  a  high  figure,  and  honestly  thought  herself 
worth  it.  And  so  she  was — to  Brandon,  or  rather  had 
been.  But  at  this  particular  time  the  market  was  down, 
as  you  will  shortly  hear. 

So  Mary  remained  at  Windsor  and  grieved  and  wept 
and  dreamed,  and  longed  that  she  might  see  across  the 
miles  of  billowy  ocean  to  her  love!  her  love!  her  love! 
Meanwhile  Brandon  had  his  trial  in  secret  down  in  Lon 
don,  and  had  been  condemned  to  be  hanged,  drawn  and 
quartered  for  having  saved  to  her  more  than  life  itself. 

Put  not  your  trust  in  princesses. 


CHAPTER  X 

JUSTICE,  O  KING! 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  I  returned  from 
France. 

How  I  hated  myself  because  I  had  not  faced  the  king's 
displeasure  and  had  not  refused  to  go  until  Brandon  was 
safely  out  of  his  trouble.  It  was  hard  for  me  to  believe 
that  I  had  left  such  a  matter  to  two  foolish  girls,  one  of 
them  as  changeable  as  the  wind,  and  the  other  completely 
under  her  control.  I  could  but  think  of  the  difference  be 
tween  myself  and  Brandon,  and  well  knew,  had  I  been  in 
his  place,  he  would  have  liberated  me  or  stormed  the 
very  walls  of  London  single-handed  and  alone. 

When  I  learned  that  Brandon  had  been  in  that  dungeon 
all  that  long  month,  I  felt  that  it  would  surely  kill  him, 
and  my  self-accusation  was  so  strong  and  bitter,  and  my 
mental  pain  so  great,  that  I  resolved  if  my  friend  died, 
either  by  disease  contracted  in  the  dungeon  or  by  execution 
of  his  sentence,  that  I  would  kill  myself.  But  that  is  a 
matter  much  easier  sincerely  to  resolve  upon  than  to  exe 
cute  when  the  time  comes. 

Next  to  myself,  I  condemned  those  wretched  girls  for 
leaving  Brandon  to  perish — Brandon,  to  whom  they  both 
owed  so  much.  It  turned  me  against  all  womankind  for 
their  selfish  sake. 

I  did  not  dally  this  time.  I  trusted  to  no  Lady  Jane  or 
Lady  Mary.  I  determined  to  go  to  the  king  at  once  and 
tell  him  all.  I  did  not  care  if  the  wretched  Mary  and  Jane 


JUSTICE,  0  KING! 

both  had  to  marry  the  French  king,  or  the  devil  himself. 
I  did  not  care  if  they  and  all  the  host  of  their  perfidious 
sisterhood  went  to  the  nether  side  of  the  universe,  there  to 
remain  forever.  I  would  retrieve  my  fault,  in  so  far  as  it 
was  retrievable,  and  save  Brandon,  who  was  worth  them 
all  put  together.  I  would  tell  Mary  and  Jane  what  I 
thought  of  them,  and  that  should  end  matters  between  us. 
I  felt  as  I  did  toward  them  not  only  because  of  their  treat 
ment  of  Brandon,  but  because  they  had  made  me  guilty  of 
a  grievous  fault,  for  which  I  should  never,  so  long  as  I 
lived,  forgive  myself.  I  determined  to  go  to  the  king,  and 
go  I  did  within  five  minutes  of  the  time  I  heard  that  Bran 
don  wras  yet  in  prison. 

I  found  the  king  sitting  alone  at  public  dinner,  and,  of 
course,  was  denied  speech  with  him.  I  was  in  no  humor 
to  be  balked,  so  I  thrust  aside  the  guards,  and,  much  to 
even-body's  fright,  for  I  was  wild  with  grief,  rage  and  de 
spair,  and  showed  it  in  every  feature,  rushed  to  the  king 
and  fell  upon  my  knees  at  his  feet. 

"Justice,  O  king !"  I  cried,  and  all  the  courtiers  heard. 
"Justice,  O  king!  for  the  worst  used  man  and  the  brav 
est,  truest  soul  that  ever  lived  and  suffered."  Here  the 
tears  began  to  stream  down  my  face  and  my  voice  choked 
in  my  throat.  "Charles  Brandon,  your  majesty's  one-time 
friend,  lies  in  a  loathsome,  rayless  dungeon,  condemned  to 
death,  as  your  majesty  may  know,  for  the  killing  of  two 
men  in  Billingsgate  Ward.  I  will  tell  you  all :  I  should 
be  thrus'c  out  from  the  society  of  decent  men  for  not  hav 
ing  told  you  before  I  left  for  France,  but  I  trusted  it  to 
another  who  has  proved  false.  I  will  tell  you  all.  Your 
sister,  the  Lady  Mary,  and  Lady  Jane  Bolingbroke  were 
returning  alone,  after  dark,  from  a  visit  to  the  soothsayer 
Grouche,  of  whom  your  majesty  has  heard.  I  had  been 


140      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

notified  of  the  Lady  Mary's  intended  visit  to  him,  al 
though  she  had  enjoined  absolute  secrecy  upon  my  in 
formant.  I  could  not  go,  being  detained  upon  your  maj 
esty's  service — it  was  the  night  of  the  ball  to  the  ambas 
sadors — and  I  asked  Brandon  to  follow  them,  which  he 
did,  without  the  knowledge  of  the  princess.  Upon  re 
turning,  the  ladies  were  attacked  by  four  ruffians,  and 
would  have  met  with  worse  than  death  had  not  the  bravest 
heart  and  the  best  sword  in  England  defended  them  vic 
toriously  against  such  fearful  odds.  He  left  them  at 
Bridewell  without  hurt  or  injury,  though  covered  with 
wounds  himself.  This  man  is  condemned  to  be  hanged, 
drawn  and  quartered,  but  I  know  not  your  majesty's  heart 
if  he  be  not  at  once  reprieved  and  richly  rewarded.  Think, 
my  king !  He  saved  the  royal  honor  of  your  sister,  who 
is  so  dear  to  you,  and  has  suffered  so  terribly  for  his  loy 
alty  and  bravery.  The  day  I  left  so  hurriedly  for  France 
the  Lady  Mary  promised  she  would  tell  you  all  and  liber 
ate  this  man  who  had  so  nobly  served  her;  but  she  is  a 
woman,  and  was  born  to  betray." 

The  king  laughed  a  little  at  my  vehemence. 

"What  is  this  you  are  telling  me,  Sir  Edwin  ?  I  know 
of  Brandon's  death  sentence,  but  as  much  as  I  regret  it,  I 
can  not  interfere  with  the  justice  of  our  good  people  of 
London  for  the  murder  of  two  knights  on  their  streets.  If 
Brandon  committed  such  a  crime,  and,  I  understand  he 
does  not  deny  it,  I  can  not  help  him,  however  much  I 
should  like  to  do  so.  But  this  nonsense  about  my  sister ! 
It  can  not  be  true.  It  must  be  trumped  up  out  of  your 
love  in  order  to  save  your  friend.  Have  a  care,  good  mas 
ter,  how  you  say  such  a  thing.  If  it  were  true,  would 
not  Brandon  have  told  it  at  his  trial?" 

"It  is  as  true  as  that  God  lives,  my  king !     If  the  Lady 


JUSTICE,  O  KING!  141 

Mary  and  Lady  Jane  do  not  bear  me  out  in  every  word  I 
have  said,  let  my  life  pay  the  forfeit.  He  would  not  tell 
of  the  great  reason  for  killing  the  men,  fearing  to  compro 
mise  the  honor  of  those  whom  he  had  saved,  for,  as  your 
majesty  is  aware,  persons  sometimes  go  to  Grouche's  for 
purposes  other  than  to  listen  to  his  soothsaying.  Not  in 
this  case,  God  knows,  but  there  are  slanderous  tongues, 
and  Brandon  was  willing  to  die  with  closed  lips,  rather 
than  set  them  wagging  against  one  so  dear  to  you.  It 
seems  that  these  ladies,  who  owe  so  much  to  him,  are  also 
willing  that  he  should  die  rather  than  themselves  bear  the 
consequences  of  their  own  folly.  Do  not  delay,  I  beseech 
your  majesty.  Eat  not  another  morsel,  I  pray  you,  until 
this  brave  man,  who  has  so  truly  served  you,  be  taken  from 
his  prison  and  freed  from  his  sentence  of  death.  Come, 
come,  my  king!  this  moment,  and  all  that  I  have,  my 
wealth,  my  life,  my  honor,  are  yours  for  all  time." 

The  king  remained  a  moment  in  thought  with  knife  in 
hand. 

"Caskoden,  I  have  never  detected  you  in  a  lie  in  all  the 
years  I  have  known  you ;  you  are  not  very  large  in  body, 
but  your  honor  is  great  enough  to  stock  a  Goliath.  I  be 
lieve  you  are  telling  the  truth.  I  will  go  at  once  to  liber 
ate  Brandon ;  and  that  little  hussy,  my  sister,  shall  go  to 
France  and  enjoy  life  as  best  she  can  with  her  old  beauty, 
King  Louis.  I  know  of  no  greater  punishment  to  inflict 
upon  her.  This  determines  me;  she  shall  coax  me  out 
of  it  no  longer.  Sir  Thomas  Brandon,  have  my  horses 
ready,  and  I  will  go  to  the  lord  mayor,  then  to  my  lord 
bishop  of  Lincoln  and  arrange  to  close  this  French  treaty 
at  once.  Let  everybody  know  that  the  Princess  Mary 
will,  within  the  month,  be  queen  of  France."  This  was 


142       WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

said  to  the  courtiers,  and  was  all  over  London  before 
night. 

I  followed  closely  in  the  wake  of  the  king,  though  unin 
vited,  for  I  had  determined  to  trust  to  no  one,  not  even  his 
majesty,  until  Brandon  should  be  free.  Henry  had  said 
he  would  go  first  to  the  lord  mayor  and  then  to  Wolsey, 
but  after  we  crossed  the  Bridge  he  passed  down  Lower 
Thames  street  and  turned  up  Fish-street  Hill  into  Grace 
Church  street  on  toward  Bishopgate.  He  said  he  would 
stop  at  Mistress  Cornwallis's  and  have  a  pudding;  and 
then  on  to  Wolsey,  who  at  that  time  lodged  in  a  house 
near  the  wall  beyond  Bishopgate. 

I  well  knew  if  the  king  once  reached  Wolsey 's,  it  would 
be  wine  and  quoits  and  other  games,  interspersed  now  and 
then  with  a  little  blustering  talk  on  statecraft,  for  the  rest 
of  the  day.  Then  the  good  bishop  would  have  in  a  few 
pretty  London  women  and  a  dance  would  follow  with  wine 
and  cards  and  dice,  and  Henry  would  spend  the  night  at 
Wolsey's,  and  Brandon  lie  another  night  in  the  mire  of  his 
Newgate  dungeon. 

I  resolved  to  raise  heaven  and  earth,  and  the  other 
place,  too,  if  necessary,  before  this  should  happen.  So  I 
rode  boldly  up  to  the  king,  and  with  uncovered  head  ad 
dressed  him:  "Your  majesty  gave  me  your  royal  word 
that  you  would  go  to  the  lord  mayor  first,  and  this  is  the 
road  to  my  lord  bishop  of  Lincoln.  In  all  the  years  I  have 
known  your  majesty,  both  as  gallant  prince  and  puissant 
king,  this  is  the  first  request  I  ever  proffered,  and  now  I 
only  ask  of  you  to  save  your  own  noble  honor,  and  do  your 
duty  as  man  and  king." 

These  were  bold  words,  but  I  did  not  care  one  little 
farthing  whether  they  pleased  him  or  not.  The  king 
stared  at  me  and  said: 


"  I   RODE  UP  TO  THE  KING  AND 
VHTH  UNCOVERED  HEAD 
AIM-JPFSSF.n   HIM     .          ." 


JUSTICE,  O  KING!  143 

"Caskoden,  you  are  a  perfect  fiste  at  my  heels.  But 
you  are  right ;  I  had  forgotten  my  errand.  You  disturbed 
my  dinner,  and  my  stomach  called  loudly  for  one  of  Mis 
tress  Cornwallis's  puddings ;  but  you  are  right  to  stick  to 
me.  What  a  friend  you  are  in  case  of  need.  Would  I 
had  one  like  you." 

"Your  majesty  has  two  of  whom  I  know;  one  riding 
humbly  by  your  royal  side,  and  the  other  lying  in  the  worst 
dungeon  in  Christendom." 

Writh  this  the  king  wheeled  about  and  started  west  to 
ward  Guildhall. 

Oh,  how  I  hated  Henry  for  that  cold  blooded,  selfish 
forgetfulness  worse  than  crime;  and  how  I  hoped  the 
Blessed  Virgin  would  forget  him  in  time  to  come,  and 
leave  his  soul  an  extra  thousand  years  in  purging  flames, 
just  to  show  him  how  it  goes  to  be  forgotten — in  hell. 

To  the  lord  mayor  we  accordingly  went  without  further 
delay.  He  was  only  too  glad  to  liberate  Brandon  when 
he  heard  my  story,  which  the  king  had  ordered  me  to  re 
peat.  The  only  hesitancy  was  from  a  doubt  of  its  truth. 

The  lord  mayor  was  kind  enough  to  say  that  he  felt  lit 
tle  doubt  of  my  word,  but  that  friendship  would  often 
drive  a  man  to  any  extremity,  even  falsehood,  to  save  a 
friend. 

Then  I  offered  to  go  into  custody  myself  and  pay  the 
penalty,  death,  for  helping  a  convicted  felon  to  escape,  if 
I  told  not  the  truth,  to  be  confirmed  or  denied  by  the 
princess  and  her  first  lady  in  waiting.  I  knew  Jane  and 
was  willing  to  risk  her  truthfulness  without  a  doubt — it 
was  so  pronounced  as  to  be  troublesome  at  times — and  as 
to  Mary — well,  I  had  no  doubt  of  her  either.  If  she 
would  but  stop  to  think  out  the  right  she  was  sure  to  do  it. 

I  have  often  wondered  how  much  of  the  general  fund  of 


144      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

*vil  in  this  world  comes  from  thoughtlessness.  Cultivate 
thought  and  you  make  virtue — I  believe.  But  this  is  no 
time  to  philosophize. 

My  offer  was  satisfactory,  for  what  more  can  a  man  do 
than  pledge  his  life  for  his  friend  ?  We  have  scripture  for 
that,  or  something  like  it. 

The  lord  mayor  did  not  require  my  proffered  pledge, 
but  readily  consented  that  the  king  should  write  an  order 
for  Brandon's  pardon  and  release.  This  was  done  at 
once,  and  we,  that  is,  I,  together  with  a  sheriff's  sergeant 
and  his  four  yeomen,  hastened  to  Newgate,  while  Henry 
went  over  to  Wolsey's  to  settle  Mary's  fate. 

Brandon  was  brought  up  with  chains  and  manacles  at 
his  ankles  and  wrists.  When  he  entered  the  room  and 
saw  me,  he  exclaimed :  "Ah !  Caskoden,  is  that  you  ?  I 
thought  they  had  brought  me  up  to  hang  me,  and  was  glad 
for  the  change ;  but  I  suppose  you  would  not  come  to  help 
at  that,  even  if  you  have  left  me  here  to  rot;  God  only 
knows  how  long;  I  have  forgotten." 

I  could  not  restrain  the  tears  at  sight  of  him. 

"Your  wrords  are  more  than  just,"  I  said;  and,  being 
anxious  that  he  should  know  at  once  that  my  fault  had 
not  been  so  great  as  it  looked,  continued  hurriedly :  "The 
king  sent  me  to  France  upon  an  hour's  notice,  the  day 
after  your  arrest.  I  know  only  too  well  I  should  not  have 
gone  without  seeing  you  out  of  this,  but  you  had  enjoined 
silence  upon  me,  and — and  I  trusted  to  the  promises  of 
another." 

"I  thought  as  much.  You  are  in  no  way  to  blame,  my 
friend ;  all  I  ask  is  that  you  never  mention  the  subject 
again." 

"My  friend !"  Ah !  the  words  were  dear  to  me  as 
words  of  love  from  a  sweetheart's  lips. 


JUSTICE,  O  KING!  45 

I  hardly  recognized  him,  he  was  so  frightfully  covered 
>yith  filth  and  dirt  and  creeping  things.  His  hair  and 
beard  were  unkempt  and  matted,  and  his  eyes  and  cheeks 
were  lusterless  and  sunken;  but  I  will  describe  him  no 
further.  Suffering  had  well-nigh  done  its  work,  and  noth 
ing  but  the  hardihood  gathered  in  his  years  of  camp  life 
and  war  could  have  saved  him  from  death.  I  bathed  and 
reclothed  him  as  well  as  I  could  at  Newgate,  and  then  took 
him  home  to  Greenwich  in  a  horse  litter,  where  my  man 
and  I  thoroughly  washed,  dressed  and  sheared  the  poor 
fellow  and  put  him  to  bed. 

"Ah !  this  bed  is  a  foretaste  of  paradise,"  he  said,  as  he 
lay  upon  the  mattress. 

It  was  a  pitiful  sight,  and  I  could  hardly  refrain  from 
tears.  I  sent  my  man  to  fetch  a  certain  Moor,  a  learned 
scholar,  though  a  hated  foreigner,  who  lived  just  off 
Cheap  and  sold  small  arms,  and  very  soon  he  was  with  us. 
Brandon  and  I  both  knew  him  well,  and  admired  his  learn 
ing  and  gentleness,  and  loved  him  for  his  sweet  philosophy 
of  life,  the  leaven  of  which  was  charity — a  modest  little 
plant  too  often  overshadowed  by  the  rank  growth  of  pomp 
ous  dogmatism. 

The  Moor  was  learned  in  the  healing  potions  of  the  east, 
and  insisted,  privately,  of  course,  that  all  the  shrines  and 
relics  in  Christendom  put  together  could  not  cure  an  ache 
in  a  baby's  little  finger.  This,  perhaps,  was  going  too 
far,  for  there  are  some  relics  that  have  undoubted  potency, 
but  in  cases  where  human  agency  can  cure,  the  people  of 
the  east  are  unquestionably  far  in  advance  of  us  in  knowl 
edge  of  remedies.  The  Moor  at  once  gave  Brandon  a 
soothing  drink,  which  soon  put  him  into  a  sweet  sleep. 
He  then  bathed  him  as  he  slept,  with  some  strengthening 
lotion,  made  certain  learned  signs,  and  spoke  a  few  cabalis- 
10 


WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

tic  words,  and,  sure  enough,  so  strong  were  the  healing 
remedies  and  incantations  that  the  next  morning  Brandon 
was  another  man,  though  very  far  from  well  and  strong. 
The  Moor  recommended  nutritious  food,  such  as  roast 
beef  and  generous  wine,  and,  although  this  advice  was 
contrary  to  the  general  belief,  which  is,  with  apparent  rea 
son,  that  the  evil  spirit  of  disease  should  be  starved  and 
driven  out,  yet  so  great  was  our  faith  in  him  that  we  fol 
lowed  his  directions,  and  in  a  few  days  Brandon  had  al 
most  regained  his  old-time  strength. 

I  will  ask  you  to  go  back  with  me  for  a  moment. 

During  the  week,  between  Brandon's  interview  with 
Mary  in  the  ante-room  of  the  king's  bed-chamber  and  the 
tragedy  at  Billingsgate,  he  and  I  had  many  conversations 
about  the  extraordinary  situation  in  which  he  found  him 
self. 

At  one  time,  I  remember,  he  said :  "I  was  safe  enough 
before  that  afternoon.  I  believe  I  could  have  gone  away 
and  forgotten  her  eventually,  but  our  mutual  avowal  seems 
to  have  dazed  me  and  paralyzed  every  power  for  effort.  I 
sometimes  feel  helpless,  and,  although  I  have  succeeded 
in  keeping  away  from  her  since  then,  often  find  myself 
wavering  in  my  determination  to  leave  England.  That 
was  what  I  feared  if  I  allowed  the  matter  to  go  to  the  point 
of  being  sure  of  her  love.  I  only  wanted  it  before,  and 
very  easily  made  myself  believe  it  was  impossible,  and  not 
for  me.  But  now  that  I  know  she  loves  me  it  is  like  hold 
ing  my  breath  to  live  without  her.  I  feel  every  instant 
that  I  can  hold  it  no  longer.  I  know  only  too  well  that 
if  I  but  see  her  face  once  more  I  shall  breathe.  She  is  the 
very  breath  of  life  for  me.  She  is  mine  by  the  gift  of  God. 
Curses  upon  those  who  keep  us  apart."  Then  musingly 
and  half  interrogatively:  "She  certainly  does  love  me, 


JUSTICE,  O  KING!  147 

She  could  not  have  treated  me  as  she  did  unless  her  love 
was  so  strong  that  she  could  not  resist  it." 

"Let  no  doubt  of  that  trouble  you,"  I  answered.  "A 
woman  like  Mary  can  not  treat  two  men  as  she  treated 
you.  Many  a  woman  may  love,  or  think  she  loves  many 
times,  but  there  is  only  one  man  who  receives  the  full 
measure  of  her  best.  Other  women,  again,  have  nothing 
to  give  but  their  best,  and  when  they  have  once  given 
that,  they  have  given  all.  Unless  I  have  known  her  in 
vain,  Mary,  with  all  her  faults,  is  such  a  woman.  Again 
I  say,  let  no  doubt  of  that  trouble  you." 

Brandon  answered  with  a  sad  little  smile  from  the  midst 
of  his  reverie.  "It  is  really  not  so  much  the  doubt  as  the 
certainty  of  it  that  troubles  me."  Then,  starting  to  his 
feet:  "If  I  thought  she  had  lied  to  me;  if  I  thought  she 
could  wantonly  lead  me  on  to  suffer  so  for  her,  I  would 
kill  her,  so  help  me  God." 

"Do  not  think  that.  Whatever  her  faults,  and  she  has 
enough,  there  is  no  man  on  earth  for  her  but  you.  Her 
love  has  come  to  her  through  a  struggle  against  it  because 
it  was  her  master.  That  is  the  strongest  and  best,  in  fact 
the  only,  love;  worth  all  the  self-made  passions  in  the 
world." 

"Yes,  I  believe  it.  I  know  she  has  faults;  even  my 
partiality  can  not  blind  me  to  them,  but  she  is  as  pure  and 
chaste  as  a  child,  and  as  gentle,  strong  and  true  as — as — a 
woman.  I  can  put  it  no  stronger.  She  has  these,  her  re 
deeming  virtues,  along  with  her  beauty,  from  her  plebeian 
grandmother,  Elizabeth  Woodville,  who,  with  them,  won 
a  royal  husband  and  elevated  herself  to  the  throne  beside 
the  chivalrous  Edward.  This  sweet  plebeian  heritage 
bubbles  up  in  the  heart  of  Mary,  and  will  not  down,  but 
neutralizes  the  royal  poison  in  her  veins  and  makes  a  god- 


148      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

\  dess  of  her."     Then  with  a  sigh :     "But  if  her  faults  were 
a  thousand  times  as  many,  and  if  each  fault  were  a  thou 
sand  times  as  great,  her  beauty  would  atone  for  all.      Such 
beauty  as  hers  can  afford  to  have  faults.     Look  at  Helen 
and  Cleopatra,  and  Agnes  Sorel.     Did  their  faults  make 
|  them  less  attractive  ?     Beauty  covereth  more  sins  than 
1  charity — and  maketh  more  grief  than  pestilence." 
The  last  clause  was  evidently  an  afterthought. 
After  his  month  in  Newgate  with  the  hangman's  noose 
about  his  neck  all  because  of  Mary's  cruel  neglect,  I  won 
dered  if  her  beauty  would  so  easily  atone  for  her  faults.     I 
may  as  well  tell  you  that  he  changed  his  mind  concerning 
this  particular  doctrine  of  atonement 


CHAPTER  XI 

LOUIS  XII  A  SUITOR 

As  soon  as  I  could  leave  Brandon,  I  had  intended  to  go 
down  to  Windsor  and  give  vent  to  my  indignation  toward 
the  girls,  but  the  more  I  thought  about  it,  the  surer  I  felt 
there  had,  somehow,  been  a  mistake.  I  could  not  bring 
myself  to  believe  that  Mary  had  deliberately  permitted 
matters  to  go  to  such  an  extreme  when  it  was  in  her 
power  to  prevent  it.  She  might  have  neglected  her  Huty 
for  a  day  or  two,  but,  sooner  or  later,  her  good  impulses 
always  came  to  her  rescue,  and,  with  Jane  by  her  side  to 
urge  her  on,  I  was  almost  sure  she  would  have  liberated 
Brandon  long  ago — barring  a  blunder  of  some  sort. 

So  I  did  not  go  to  Windsor  until  a  week  after  Bran 
don's  release,  when  the  king  asked  me  to  go  down  with 
him,  Wolsey  and  de  Longueville,  the  French  ambassador- 
special,  for  the  purpose  of  officially  offering  to  Mary  the 
hand  of  Louis  XII,  and  the  honor  of  becoming  queen  of 
France. 

The  princess  had  known  of  the  projected  arrangement 
for  many  weeks,  but  had  no  thought  of  the  present  for 
ward  condition  of  affairs,  or  she  would  have  brought  her 
energies  to  bear  upon  Henry  long  before.  She  could  not 
bring  herself  to  believe  that  her  brother  would  really  force 
her  into  such  wretchedness,  and  possibly  he  would  never 
have  done  so,  as  much  as  he  desired  it  from  the  standpoint 
of  personal  ambition,  had  it  not  been  for  the  petty  excuse 
of  that  fatal  trip  to  Grouche's. 

049) 


150      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

All  the  circumstances  of  the  case  were  such  as  to  make 
Mary's  marriage  a  veritable  virgin  sacrifice.  Louis  was 
an  old  man,  and  an  old  Frenchman  at  that ;  full  of  French 
notions  of  morality  and  immorality;  and  besides,  there 
were  objections  that  can  not  be  written,  but  of  which 
Henry  and  Mary  had  been  fully  informed.  She  might  as 
well  marry  a  leper.  Do  you  wonder  she  was  full  of  dread 
and  fear,  and  resisted  with  the  desperation  of  death  ? 

So  Mary,  the  person  most  interested,  was  about  the  last 
to  learn  that  the  treaty  had  been  signed. 

Windsor  was  nearly  eight  leagues  from  London,  and  at 
that  time  was  occupied  only  by  the  girls  and  a  few  old 
ladies  and  servants,  so  that  news  did  not  travel  fast  in  that 
direction  from  the  city.  It  is  also  probable  that,  even  if 
report  of  the  treaty  and  Brandon's  release  had  reached 
Windsor,  the  persons  hearing  it  would  have  hesitated  to 
repeat  it  to  Mary.  However  that  may  be,  she  had  no 
knowledge  of  either  until  she  was  informed  of  the  fact  that 
the  king  and  the  French  ambassador  would  be  at  Windsor 
on  a  certain  day  to  make  the  formal  request  for  her  hand 
and  offer  the  gifts  of  King  Louis. 

I  had  no  doubt  Mary  was  in  trouble,  and  felt  sure  she 
had  been  making  affairs  lively  about  her.  I  knew  her 
suffering  was  keen,  but  was  glad  of  it  in  view  of  her  treat 
ment  of  Brandon. 

A  day  or  two  after  Brandon's  liberation  I  had  begun  to 
speak  to  him  of  the  girls,  but  he  interrupted  me  with  a 
frightful  oath :  "Caskoden,  you  are  my  friend,  but  if  you 
ever  mention  their  names  again  in  my  hearing  you  are  my 
friend  no  longer.  I  will  curse  you." 

I  was  frightened,  so  much  stronger  did  his  nature  show 
than  mine,  and  took  good  care  to  remain  silent  on  that  sub- 


LOUIS  XII  A  SUITOR  151 

ject  until — but  I  am  going  too  fast  again ;  I  will  tell  you 
of  that  hereafter. 

Upon  the  morning  appointed,  the  king,  Wolsey,  de 
Longueville  and  myself,  with  a  small  retinue,  rode  over 
to  Windsor,  where  we  found  that  Mary,  anticipating  us, 
had  barricaded  herself  in  her  bedroom  and  refused  to  re 
ceive  the  announcement.  The  king  went  up  stairs  to  coax 
at  the  fair  young  besieged  through  two  inches  of  oak  door, 
and  to  induce  her,  if  possible,  to  come  down.  We  below 
could  plainly  hear  the  king  pleading  in  the  voice  of  a  Bash- 
an  bull,  and  it  afforded  us  some  amusement  behind  our 
hands.  Then  his  majesty  grew  angry  and  threatened  to 
break  down  the  door,  but  the  fair  besieged  maintained  a 
most  persistent  and  provoking  silence  throughout  it  all, 
and  allowed  him  to  carry  out  his  threat  without  so  much 
as  a  whimper.  He  was  thoroughly  angry,  and  called  to 
us  to  come  up  to  see  him  "compel  obedience  from  the  self- 
willed  hussy," — a  task  the  magnitude  of  which  he  under 
rated. 

The  door  was  soon  broken  down,  and  the  king  walked 
in  first,  with  de  Longueville  and  Wolsey  next,  and  the 
rest  of  us  following  in  close  procession.  But  we  marched 
over  broken  walls  to  the  most  laughable  defeat  ever  suf 
fered  by  besieging  army.  Our  foe,  though  small,  was  al 
together  too  fertile  in  expedients  for  us.  There  seemed 
no  way  to  conquer  this  girl;  her  resources  were  so  in 
exhaustible  that  in  the  moment  of  your  expected  victory 
success  was  turned  into  defeat ;  nay,  more,  ridiculous  dis 
aster. 

We  found  Jane  crouching  on  the  floor  in  a  corner  half 
dead  with  fright  from  the  noise  and  tumult — and  where  do 
you  think  we  found  her  mistress?  Frightened?  Not  at 
all ;  she  was  lying  in  bed  with  her  face  to  the  wall  as  cool 


152      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

as  a  January  morning ;  her  clothing  in  a  little  heap  in  the 
middle  of  the  room. 

Without  turning  her  head,  she  exclaimed :  "Come  in, 
brother ;  you  are  quite  welcome.  Bring  in  your  friends ; 
I  am  ready  to  receive  them,  though  not  in  court  attire,  as 
you  see."  And  she  thrust  her  bare  arm  straight  up  from 
the  bed  to  prove  her  words.  You  should  have  seen  the 
Frenchman's  little  black  eyes  gloat  on  its  beauty. 

Mary  went  on,  still  looking  toward  the  wall:  "I  will 
arise  and  receive  you  all  informally,  if  you  will  but  wait." 

This  disconcerted  the  imperturbable  Henry,  who  was 
about  at  his  wit's  end. 

"Cover  that  arm,  you  hussy,"  he  cried  in  a  flaming  rage. 

"Be  not  impatient,  brother  mine!  I  will  jump  out  in 
just  a  moment." 

A  little  scream  from  Jane  startled  everybody,  and  she 
quickly  ran  up  to  the  king,  saying:  "I  beg  your  majesty 
to  go.  She  will  do  as  she  says  so  sure  as  you  remain ;  you 
don't  know  her;  she  is  very  angry.  Please  go;  I  will 
bring  her  down  stairs  somehow." 

"Ah,  indeed !  Jane  Bolingbroke,"  came  from  the  bed. 
"I  will  receive  my  guests  myself  when  they  are  kind 
enough  to  come  to  my  room."  The  coverlid  began  to 
move,  and,  whether  or  not  she  was  really  going  to  carry 
out  her  threat,  I  can  not  say,  but  Henry,  knowing  her  too 
well  to  risk  it,  hurried  us  all  out  of  the  room  and  marched 
down  stairs  at  the  head  of  his  defeated  cohorts.  He  was 
swearing  in  a  way  to  make  a  priest's  flesh  creep,  and  pro 
testing  by  everything  holy  that  Mary  should  be  the  wife  of 
Louis  or  die.  He  went  back  to  Mary's  room  at  intervals, 
but  there  was  enough  persistence  in  that  one  girl  to  stop 
the  wheels  of  time,  if  she  but  set  herself  to  do  it,  and  the 


LOUIS  XII  A  SUITOR  153 

king  came  away  from  each  visit  the  victim  of  another 
rout. 

Finally  his  anger  cooled  and  he  became  amused.  From 
the  last  visit  he  came  down  laughing : 

"I  shall  have  to  give  up  the  fight  or  else  put  my  armor 
on  with  visor  down,"  said  he ;  "it  is  not  safe  to  go  near 
her  without  it ;  she  is  a  very  vixen,  and  but  now  tried  to 
scratch  my  eyes  out." 

Wolsey,  who  had  a  wonderful  knack  for  finding  the  eas 
iest  means  to  a  difficult  end,  took  Henry  off  to  a  window 
where  they  held  a  whispered  conversation. 

It  was  pathetic  to  see  a  mighty  king  and  his  great  min 
ister  of  state  consulting  and  planning  against  one  poor 
girl ;  and,  as  angry  as  I  felt  toward  Alary,  I  could  not  help 
pitying  her,  and  admired,  beyond  the  power  of  pen  to 
write,  the  valiant  and  so  far  impregnable  defense  she  had 
put  up  against  an  array  of  strength  that  would  have  made 
a  king  tremble  on  his  throne. 

Presently  Henry  gave  one  of  his  loud  laughs,  and 
slapped  his  thigh  as  if  highly  satisfied  with  some  proposi 
tion  of  Wolsey's. 

"Make  ready  at  once,"  he  said.  "We  will  go  back  to 
London." 

In  a  short  time  we  were  all  at  the  main  stairway  ready 
to  mount  for  the  return  trip. 

The  Lady  Mary's  window  was  just  above,  and  I  sa\v 
Jane  watching  us  as  we  rode  away. 

After  we  were  well  out  of  Mary's  sight  the  king  called 
me  to  him,  and  he,  together  with  de  Longueville,  Wolsey 
and  myself,  turned  our  horses'  heads,  rode  rapidly  by  a 
circuitous  path  back  to  another  door  of  the  castle  and  re- 
entered  without  the  knowledge  of  any  of  the  inmates. 

We  four  remained  in  silence,  enjoined  by  the  king,  and 


154      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

in  the  course  of  an  hour,  the  princess,  supposing  every  one 
had  gone,  came  down  stairs  and  walked  into  the  room 
where  we  were  waiting. 

It  was  a  scurvy  trick,  and  I  felt  a  contempt  for  the  men 
who  had  planned  it.  I  could  see  that  Mary's  first  impulse 
was  to  beat  a  hasty  retreat  back  into  her  citadel,  the  bed, 
but  in  truth  she  had  in  her  make-up  very  little  disposition 
to  retreat.  She  was  clear  grit.  What  a  man  she  would 
have  made !  But  what  a  crime  it  would  have  been  in  na 
ture  to  have  spoiled  so  perfect  a  woman.  How  beautiful 
she  was!  She  threw  one  quick,  surprised  glance  at  her 
brother  and  his  companions,  and  lifting  up  her  exquisite 
head  carelessly  hummed  a  little  tune  under  her  breath  as 
she  marched  to  the  other  end  of  the  room  with  a  gait  that 
Juno  herself  could  not  have  improved  upon. 

I  saw  the  king  smile,  half  in  pride  of  her,  and  half  in 
amusement,  and  the  Frenchman's  little  eyes  feasted  upon 
her  beauty  with  a  relish  that  could  not  be  mistaken. 

Henry  and  the  ambassador  spoke  a  word  in  whispers, 
when  the  latter  took  a  box  from  a  huge  side  pocket  and 
started  across  the  room  toward  Mary  with  the  king  at  his 
heels. 

Her  side  was  toward  them  when  they  came  up,  but  she 
kept  her  attitude  as  if  she  had  been  of  bronze.  She  had 
taken  up  a  book  that  was  lying  on  the  table  and  was  exam 
ining  it  as  they  approached. 

De  Longueville  held  the  box  in  his  hand,  and  bowing 
and  scraping  said  in  broken  English :  "Permit  to  me,  most 
gracious  princess,  that  I  may  have  the  honor  to  offer  on 
behalf  of  my  august  master,  this  little  testament  of  his 
high  admiration  and  love."  With  this  he  bowed  again, 
smiled  like  a  crack  in  a  piece  of  old  parchment,  and  held 
his  box  toward  Mary.  It  was  open,  probably  in  the  hope 


LOUIS  XII  A  SUITOR  S55 

of  enticing  her  with  a  sight  of  its  contents — a  beautiful 
diamond  necklace. 

She  turned  her  face  ever  so  little  and  took  it  all  in  with 
one  contemptuous,  sneering  glance  out  of  the  corners  of 
her  eyes.  Then  quietly  reaching  out  her  hand  she  grasped 
the  necklace  and  deliberately  dashed  it  in  poor  old  de 
Longueville's  face. 

"There  is  my  answer,  sir!  Go  home  and  tell  your 
imbecile  old  master  I  scorn  his  suit  and  hate  him — hate 
him — hate  him !"  Then  with  the  tears  falling  unheeded 
down  her  cheeks,  "Master  Wolsey,  thou  butcher's  cur! 
This  trick  was  of  your  conception;  the  others  had  not 
brains  enough  to  think  of  it.  Are  you  not  proud  to  have 
outwitted  one  poor  heart-broken  girl?  But  beware,  sir; 
I  tell  you  now  I  will  be  quits  with  you  yet,  or  my  name  is  | 
not  Mary." 

There  is  a  limit  to  the  best  of  feminine  nerve,  and  at 
that  limit  should  always  be  found  a  flood  of  healthful  tears. 
Mary  had  reached  it  when  she  threw  the  necklace  and  shot 
her  bolt  at  Wolsey,  so  she  broke  down  and  hastily  left  the 
room. 

The  king,  of  course,  was  beside  himself  with  rage. 

"By  God's  soul,"  he  swore,  "she  shall  marry  Louis  of  ) 
France,  or  I  will  have  her  whipped  to  death  on  the  Smith-  | 
field  pillory."  And  in  his  wicked  heart — so  impervious  '; 
to  a  single  lasting  good  impulse — he  really  meant  it. 

Immediately  after  this,  the  king,  de  Longueville  and 
Wolsey  set  out  for  London. 

I  remained  behind  hoping  to  see  the  girls,  and  after  a 
short  time  a  page  plucked  me  by  the  sleeve,  saying  the 
princess  wished  to  see  me. 

The  page  conducted  me  to  the  same  room  in  which  had 
been  fought  the  battle  with  Mary  in  bed0  The  door  had 


156      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

been  placed  on  its  hinges  again,  but  the  bed  was  tumbled 
as  Mary  had  left  it,  and  the  room  was  in  great  disorder. 

"Oh,  Sir  Edwin,"  began  Mary,  who  was  weeping, 
"was  ever  woman  in  such  frightful  trouble?  My  brother 
is  killing  me.  Can  he  not  see  that  I  could  not  live  through 
a  week  of  this  marriage?  And  I  have  been  deserted  by 
all  my  friends,  too,  excepting  Jane.  She,  poor  thing,  can 
not  leave." 

"You  know  I  would  not  go,"  said  Jane,  parentheti 
cally.  Mary  continued :  "You,  too,  have  been  home  an 
entire  week  and  have  not  been  near  me." 

I  began  to  soften  at  the  sight  of  her  grief,  and  con 
cluded,  with  Brandon,  that,  after  all,  her  beauty  could  well 
cover  a  multitude  of  sins;  perhaps  even  this,  her  great 
transgression  against  him. 

The  princess  was  trying  to  check  her  weeping,  and  in  a 
moment  took  up  the  thread  of  her  unfinished  sentence: 
"And  Master  Brandon,  too,  left  without  so  much  as  send 
ing  me  one  little  word — not  a  line  nor  syllable.  He  did 
not  come  near  me,  but  wrent  off  as  if  I  did  not  care — or  he 
did  not.  Of  course  he  did  not  care,  or  he  would  not  have 
behaved  so,  knowing  I  was  in  so  much  trouble.  I  did  not 
see  him  at  all  after — one  afternoon  in  the  king's — about  a 
week  before  that  awful  night  in  London,  except  that  night, 
when  I  was  so  frightened  I  could  not  speak  one  word  of 
all  the  things  I  wished  to  say." 

This  sounded  strange  enough,  and  I  began  more  than 
ever  to  suspect  something  wrong.  I,  however,  kept  as 
firm  a  grasp  as  possible  upon  the  stock  of  indignation  I 
had  brought  with  me. 

"How  did  you  expect  to  see  or  hear  from  him,"  asked 
I,  "when  he  was  lying  in  a  loathsome  dungeon  without 
one  ray  of  light,  condemned  to  be  hanged,  drawn  and 


LOUIS  XII  A  SUITOR  137 

quartered,  because  of  your  selfish  neglect  to  save  him  who, 
at  the  cost  of  half  his  blood,  and  almost,  his  life,  had  saved 
so  much  for  you?'* 

Her  eyes  grew  big,  and  the  tears  were  checked  by  gen 
uine  surprise. 

I  continued:  "Lady  Mary,  no  one  could  have  made 
me  believe  that  you  would  stand  back  and  let  the  man,  to 
whom  you  owed  so  great  a  debt,  lie  so  long  in  such  mis 
ery,  and  be  condemned  to  such  a  death  for  the  act  that 
saved  you.  I  could  never  have  believed  it !" 

"Imp  of  hell !"  screamed  Mary ;  "what  tale  is  this  you 
bring  to  torture  me?  Have  I  not  enough  already?  Tell 
me  it  is  a  lie,  or  I  will  have  your  miserable  little  tongue 
torn  out  by  the  root." 

"It  is  no  lie,  princess,  but  an  awful  truth,  and  a  fright 
ful  shame  to  you." 

I  was  determined  to  tell  her  all  and  let  her  see  herself  as 
she  was. 

She  gave  a  hysterical  laugh,  and  throwing  up  her 
hands,  with  her  accustomed  little  gesture,  fell  upon  the 
bed  in  utter  abandonment,  shaking  as  with  a  spasm,  She 
did  not  weep ;  she  could  not ;  she  was  past  that  now-,  Jane 
went  over  to  the  bed  and  tried  to  soothe  her. 

In  a  moment  Maty  sprang  to  her  feet,  exclaiming: 
"Master  Brandon  condemned  to  death  and  you  and  I 
here  talking  and  moaning  and  weeping?  Come,  come,  we 
will  go  to  the  king  at  once.  We  will  start  to  walk,  Edwin 
— I  must  be  doing  something — and  Jane  can  follow  with 
the  horses  and  overtake  us.  No ;  I  will  not  dress ;  just 
as  I  am ;  this  will  do.  Bring  me  a  hat,  Jane ;  any  one, 
any  one."  While  putting  on  hat  and  gloves  she  contin 
ued:  "I  will  see  the  king  at  once  and  tell  him  all!  all! 
1  will  do  anything ;  I  will  marry  that  old  kins  of  France, 


158  WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

or  forty  kings,  or  forty  devils;  it's  all  one  to  me;  any 
thing!  anything!  to  save  him.  Oh!  to  think  that  he  has 
been  in  that  dungeon  all  this  time."  And  the  tears  came 
unheeded  in  a  deluge. 

She  was  under  such  headway,  and  spoke  and  moved  so 
rapidly,  that  I  could  not  stop  her  until  she  was  nearly 
ready  to  go.  Then  I  held  her  by  the  arm  while  I  said: 

"It  is  not  necessary  now;  you  are  too  late." 

A  look  of  horror  came  into  her  face,  and  I  continued 
slowly:  "I  procured  Brandon's  release  nearly  a  week 
ago;  I  did  what  you  should  have  done,  and  he  is  now  at 
our  rooms  in  Greenwich." 

Mary  looked  at  me  a  moment,  and,  turning  pale,  pressed 
her  hands  to  her  heart  and  leaned  against  the  door  frame. 

After  a  short  silence  she  said:  "  Edwin  Caskoden — 
fool !  Why  could  you  not  have  told  me  that  at  first  ?  I 
thought  my  brain  would  burn  and  my  heart  burst." 

"I  should  have  told  you  had  you  given  me  time.  As 
to  the  pain  it  gave  you—"  this  was  the  last  charge  of  my 
large  magazine  of  indignation — "I  care  very  little  about 
that.  You  deserve  it.  I  do  not  know  what  explanation 
you  have  to  offer,  but  nothing  can  excuse  you.  An  expla 
nation,  however  good,  would  have  been  little  comfort  to 
you  had  Brandon  failed  you  in  Billingsgate  that  night." 

She  had  fallen  into  a  chair  by  this  time  and  sat  in  rev 
erie,  staring  at  nothing.  Then  the  tears  came  again,  but 
more  softly. 

"You  are  right;  nothing  can  excuse  me.  I  am  the  most 
selfish,  ungrateful,  guilty  creature  ever  born.  A  whole 
month  in  that  dungeon!"  And  she  covered  her  drooping 
face  with  her  hands. 

"Go  away  for  awhile,  Edwin,  and  then  return;  we  shall 
want  to  see  you  again,"  said  Jane. 


LOUIS  XII  A  SUITOR  159 

Upon  my  return  Mary  was  more  composed.  Jane  had 
dressed  her  hair,  and  she  was  sitting  on  the  bed  in  her  rid 
ing  habit,  hat  in  hand.  Her  fingers  were  nervously  toy 
ing  at  the  ribbons  and  her  eyes  cast  down. 

"You  are  surely  right,  Sir  Edwin.  I  have  no  excuse. 
I  can  have  none ;  but  I  will  tell  you  how  it  was.  You  re 
member  the  day  you  left  me  in  the  waiting-room  of  the 
king's  council  ? — when  they  were  discussing  my  marriage 
without  one  thought  of  me,  as  if  I  were  but  a  slave  or  a 
dumb  brute  that  could  not  feel."  She  began  to  weep  a 
little,  but  soon  recovered  herself.  "While  waiting  for 
you  to  return,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  came  in.  I  knew 
Henry  was  trying  to  sell  me  to  the  French  king,  and  my 
heart  was  full  of  trouble — from  more  causes  than  you  can 
know.  All  the  council,  especially  that  butcher's  son,  were 
urging  him  on,  and  Henry  himself  was  anxious  that  the 
marriage  should  be  brought  about.  He  thought  it  would 
strengthen  him  for  the  imperial  crown.  He  wants  every 
thing,  and  is  ambitious  to  be  emperor.  Emperor!  He 
would  cut  a  pretty  figure !  I  hoped,  though,  I  should  be 
able  to  induce  him  not  to  sacrifice  me  to  his  selfish  inter 
ests,  as  I  have  done  before,  but  I  knew  only  too  well  it 
would  tax  my  powers  to  the  utmost  this  time.  I  knew 
that  if  I  did  anything  to  anger  or  antagonize  him,  it  would 
be  all  at  an  end  with  me.  You  know  he  is  so  exacting 
with  other  people's  conduct,  for  one  who  is  so  careless 
of  his  own — so  virtuous  by  proxy.  You  remember  how 
cruelly  he  disgraced  and  crushed  poor  Lady  Chesterfield, 
who  was  in  such  trouble  about  her  husband,  and  who 
went  to  Grouche's  only  to  learn  if  he  were  true  to  her. 
Henry  seems  to  be  particularly  sensitive  in  that  direction. 
One  would  think  it  was  in  the  commandments:  Thou 
shalt  not  go  to  Grouche's/*  It  may  be  that  some  have  gone 


l6b      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

there  for  other  purposes  than  to  have  their  fortunes  told— 
to  meet,  to — but  I  need  not  say  that  I — "  and  she  stopped 
short,  blushing  to  her  hair. 

"Well,  I  knew  I  could  do  nothing  with  Henry  if  he 
once  learned  of  that  visit,  especially  as  it  resulted  so 
fatally,  Oh !  why  did  I  go ?  Why  did  I  go?  That  was 
why  I  hesitated  to  tell  Henry  at  once.  I  was  hoping  some 
other  way  would  open  whereby  I  might  save  Charles — 
Master  Brandon.  While  I  was  waiting,  along  came  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham,  and  as  I  knew  he  was  popular  in 
London,  and  had  almost  as  much  influence  there  as  the 
king,  a  thought  came  to  me  that  he  might  help  us. 

"I  knew  that  he  and  Master  Brandon  had  passed  a  few 
angry  words  at  one  time  in  my  ball-room — you  remember 
— but  I  also  knew  that  the  duke  was  in — in  love  with  me, 
you  know,  or  pretended  to  be — he  always  said  he  was — 
and  I  felt  sure  I  could,  by  a  little  flattery,  induce  him  to 
do  anything.  He  was  always  protesting  that  he  would 
give  half  his  blood  to  serve  me.  As  if  anybody  wanted 
a  drop  of  his  wretched  blood.  Poor  Master  Brandon !  his 
blood...."  and  the  tears  came,  choking  her  words  for 
the  moment.  "So  I  told  the  duke  I  had  promised  you 
and  Jane  to  procure  Master  Brandon's  liberty,  and  asked 
him  to  do  it  for  me.  He  gladly  consented,  and  gave  me 
his  knightly  word  that  it  should  be  attended  to  without 
an  hour's  delay.  He  said  it  might  have  to  be  done 
secretly  in  the  way  of  an  escape — not  officially — as  the 
Londoners  were  very  jealous  of  their  rights  and  much 
aroused  on  account  of  the  killing.  Especially,  he  said  that 
at  that  time  great  caution  must  be  used,  as  the  king  was 
anxious  to  conciliate  the  city  in  order  to  procure  a  loan  for 
some  purpose — my  dower,  I  suppose. 

"The  duke  said  it  should  be  as  I  wished ;  that  Master 


LOUIS  XII  A  SUITOR  l6l 

Brandon  should  escape,  and  remain  away  from  London 
for  a  few  weeks  until  the  king  procured  his  loan,  and  then 
be  freed  by  royal  proclamation. 

"I  saw  Buckingham  the  next  day,  for  I  was  very  anx 
ious,  you  may  be  sure,  and  he  said  the  keeper  of  New 
gate  had  told  him  it  had  been  arranged  the  night  before 
as  desired.  I  had  come  to  Windsor  because  it  was  more 
quiet,  and  my  heart  was  full.  It  is  quite  a  distance  from 
London,  and  I  thought  it  might  afford  a  better  oppor 
tunity  to — to  see — I  thought,  perhaps  Master  Brandon 
might  come — might  want  to — to — see  Jane  and  me;  in 
fact  I  wrote  him  before  I  left  Greenwich  that  I  wrould  be 
here.  Then  I  heard  he  had  gone  to  New  Spain.  Now7  you 
see  howr  all  my  troubles  have  come  upon  me  at  once ;  and 
this  the  greatest  of  them,  because  it  is  my  fault.  I  can  ask 
no  forgiveness  from  any  one,  for  I  can  not  forgive  my 
self." 

She  then  inquired  about  Brandon's  health  and  spirits, 
and  I  left  out  no  distressing  detail  you  may  be  sure. 

During  my  recital  she  sat  with  downcast  eyes  and  tear- 
stained  face,  playing  with  the  ribbons  of  her  hat. 

When  I  was  ready  to  go  she  said:  "Please  say  to 
Master  Brandon  I  should  like — to — see — him,  if  he  cares 
to  come,  if  only  that  I  may  tell  him  how  it  happened." 

"I  greatly  fear,  in  fact,  I  know  he  will  not  come,"  said 
I.  "The  cruelest  blow  of  all,  worse  even  than  the  dun 
geon,  or  the  sentence  of  death,  was  your  failure  to  save 
him.  He  trusted  you  so  implicitly  At  the  time  of  his 
arrest  he  refused  to  allow  me  to  tell  the  king,  saying  he 
knew  you  would  see  to  it — that  you  were  pure  gold." 

"Ah,  did  he  say  that?"  she  asked,  as  a  sad  little  smile 
lighted  her  face. 

"His  faith  was  so  entirely  without  doubt,  that  his  recoil 
11 


162      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

from  you  is  correspondingly  great.  He  goes  to  New 
Spain  as  soon  as  his  health  is  recovered  sufficiently  for  him 
to  travel." 

This  sent  the  last  fleck  of  color  from  her  face,  and  with 
the  words  almost  choking  her  throat :  "Then  tell  him 
what  I  have  said  to  you  and  perhaps  he  will  not  feel  so — " 

"I  can  not  do  that  either,  Lady  Mary.  When  I  men 
tioned  your  name  the  other  day  he  said  he  would  curse 
me  if  I  ever  spoke  it  again  in  his  hearing." 

"Is  it  so  bad  as  that?"  Then,  meditatively:  "And 
at  his  trial  he  did  not  tell  the  reason  for  the  killing  ?  Would 
not  compromise  me,  who  had  served  him  so  ill,  even  to 
save  his  own  life?  Noble,  noble!"  And  her  lips  went 
together  as  she  rose  to  her  feet.  No  tears  now ;  nothing 
but  glowing,  determined  womanhood. 

"Then  I  will  go  to  him  wherever  he  may  be.  He  shall 
forgive  me,  no  matter  what  my  fault." 

Soon  after  this  we  were  on  our  way  to  London  at  a 
brisk  gallop. 

We  were  all  very  silent,  but  at  one  time  Mary  spoke 
up  from  the  midst  of  a  reverie:  "During  the  moment 
when  I  thought  Master  Brandon  had  been  executed — 
when  you  said  it  was  too  late — it  seemed  that  I  was  born 
again  and  all  made  over ;  that  I  was  changed  in  the  very 
texture  of  my  nature  by  the  shock,  as  they  say  the  grain 
of  the  iron  cannon  is  sometimes  changed  by  too  violent  an 
explosion."  And  this  proved  to  be  true  in  some  respects. 

We  rode  on  rapidly  and  did  not  stop  in  London  except 
to  give  the  horses  drink. 

After  crossing  the  bridge,  Mary  said,  half  to  Jane  and 
half  to  herself:  "I  will  never  marry  the  French  king — 
never."  Mary  was  but  a  girl  pitted  against  a  body  of 


LOUIS  XII  A  SUITOR  163 

brutal  men,  two  of  them  rulers  of  the  two  greatest  nations 
on  earth — rather  heavy  odds,  for  one  woman. 

\Ye  rode  down  to  Greenwich  and  entered  the  palace 
without  exciting  comment,  as  the  princess  was  in  the  habit 
of  going  and  coming  at  will. 

The  king  and  queen  and  most  of  the  courtiers  were  in 
London — at  Bridewell  and  Barnard  Castle — where  Henry 
was  vigorously  pushing  the  loan  of  five  hundred  thousand 
crowns  for  Mary's  dower,  the  only  business  of  state  in 
which,  at  that  time,  he  took  any  active  interest.  Subse 
quently,  as  you  know,  he  became  interested  in  the  divorce 
laws,  and  the  various  methods  whereby  a  man,  especially 
a  king,  might  rid  himself  of  a  distasteful  wife ;  and  after 
he  saw  the  truth  in  Anne  Boleyn's  eyes,  he  adopted  a  com 
bined  policy  of  church  and  state  craft  that  has  brought  us 
a  deal  of  senseless  trouble  evei  since — and  is  like  to  keep 
it  up. 

As  to  Mary's  dower,  Henry  was  to  pay  Louis  only  four 
hundred  thousand  crowns,  but  he  made  the  marriage  an 
excuse  for  an  extra  hundred  thousand,  to  be  devoted  to  his 
own  private  use. 

"\Yhen  we  arrived  at  the  palace,  the  girls  went  to  their 
apartments  and  I  to  mine,  where  I  found  Brandon  read 
ing.  There  was  only  one  window  to  our  common  room 
- — a  dormer-window,  set  into  the  roof,  and  reached  by  a 
little  passage  as  broad  as  the  window  itself,  and  perhaps 
a  yard  and  a  half  long.  In  the  alcove  thus  formed  was  a 
bench  along  the  wall,  cushioned  by  Brandon's  great  cam 
paign  cloak.  In  this  window  we  often  sat  and  read,  and 
here  was  Brandon  with  his  book.  I  had  intended  to  tell 
him  the  girls  were  coming,  for  when  Mary  asked  me  if  I 
thought  he  would  come  to  her  at  the  palace,  and  when 
I  had  again  said  no,  she  reiterated  her  intention  of  going 


164      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

to  him  at  once ;  but  my  courage  failed  me  and  I  did  not 
speak  of  it. 

I  knew  that  Mary  ought  not  to  come  to  our  room,  and 
that  if  news  of  it  should  reach  the  king's  ears  there  would 
be  more  and  worse  trouble  than  ever,  and,  as  usual,  Bran 
don  would  pay  the  penalty  for  all.  Then  again,  if  it  were 
discovered  it  might  seriously  compromise  both  Mary  and 
Jane,  as  the  world  is  full  of  people  who  would  rather  say 
and  believe  an  evil  thing  of  another  than  to  say  their 
prayers  or  believe  the  holy  creed. 

I  had  said  as  much  to  the  Lady  Mary  when  she  ex 
pressed  her  determination  to  go  to  Brandon.  She  had 
been  in  the  wrong  so  much  of  late  that  she  was  humbled, 
and  I  was  brave  enough  to  say  whatever  I  felt;  but  she 
said  she  had  thought  it  all  over,  and  as  every  one  was  away 
from  Greenwich  it  would  not  be  found  out  if  done  secretly. 

She  told  Jane  she  need  not  go;  that  she,  Mary,  did 
not  want  to  take  any  risk  of  compromising  her. 

You  see,  trouble  was  doing  a  good  work  in  the  princess, 
and  had  made  it  possible  for  a  generous  thought  for  an 
other  to  find  spontaneous  lodgment  in  her  heart.  What  a 
great  thing  it  is,  this  human  suffering,  which  so  sensitizes 
Our  sympathy,  and  makes  us  tender  to  another's  pain. 
Nothing  else  so  fits  us  for  earth  or  prepares  us  for  heaven. 

Jane  would  have  gone,  though,  had  she  known  that  all 
her  fair  name  would  go  with  her.  She  was  right,  you  see, 
when  she  told  me,  while  riding  over  to  Windsor,  that 
should  Mary's  love  blossom  into  a  full-blown  passion  she 
would  wreck  everything  and  everybody,  including  herself 
perhaps,  to  attain  the  object  of  so  great  a  desire. 

It  looked  now  as  if  she  were  on  the  high  road  to  that 
end.  Nothing  short  of  chains  and  fetters  could  have  kept 
her  from  going  to  Brandon  that  evening.  There  was  an 


LOUIS  XII  A  SUITOR  165 

inherent  force  about  her  that  was  irresistible  and  swept 
everything  before  it. 

In  our  garret  she  was  to  meet  another  will,  stronger 
and  infinitely  better  controlled  than  her  own,  and  I  did  not 
know  how  it  would  all  turn  out. 


CHAPTER  XII 
ATONEMENT 

I  had  not  been  long  in  the  room  when  a  knock  at  the 
door  announced  the  girls.  I  admitted  them,  and  Mary 
walked  to  the  middle  of  the  floor.  It  was  just  growing 
dark  and  the  room  was  quite  dim,  save  at  the  window 
I  where  Brandon  sat  reading.  Gods!  those  were  exciting 
\  moments ;  my  heart  beat  like  a  woman's.  Brandon  saw 
'  the  girls  when  they  entered,  but  never  so  much  as  looked 
up  from  his  book.  You  must  remember  he  had  a  great 
grievance.  Even  looking  at  it  from  Mary's  side  of  the 
case,  certainly  its  best  point  of  view,  he  had  been  terribly 
misused',  and  it  was  all  the  worse  that  the  misuse  had  come 
from  one  who,  from  his  standpoint,  had  pretended  to  love 
him,  and  had  wantonly  led  him  on,  as  he  had  the  best  of 
right  to  think,  to  love  her,  and  to  suffer  the  keenest  pangs 
a  heart  can  know.  Then  you  must  remember  he  did  not 
know  even  the  best  side  of  the  matter,  bad  as  it  was,  but 
saw  only  the  naked  fact,  that  in  recompense  for  his  great 
help  in  time  of  need,  Mary  had  deliberately  allowed  him  to 
lie  in  that  dungeon  a  long,  miserable  month,  and  would 
have  suffered  him  to  die.  So  it  was  no  wonder  his  heart 
was  filled  with  bitterness  toward  her.  Jane  and  I  had  re 
mained  near  the  door,  and  poor  Mary  was  a  pitiable  prin 
cess,  standing  there  so  full  of  doubt  in  the  middle  of  the 
room.  After  a  moment  she  stepped  toward  the  window, 
and,  with  quick-coming  breath,  stopped  at  the  threshold 
of  the  little  passage, 

(166) 


ATONEMENT  167 

"Master  Brandon,  I  have  come,  not  to  make  excuses, 
for  nothing  can  excuse  me,  but  to  tell  you  how  it  all  hap 
pened — by  trusting  to  another." 

Brandon  arose,  and  marking  the  place  in  his  book  with 
his  finger,  followed  Mary,  who  had  stepped  backward  into 
the  room. 

"Your  highness  is  very  gracious  and  kind  thus  to  honor 
me,  but  as  our  ways  will  hereafter  lie  as  far  apart  as  the 
world  is  broad,  I  think  it  would  have  been  far  better  had 
you  refrained  from  so  imprudent  a  visit ;  especially  as  any 
thing  one  so  exalted  as  yourself  may  have  to  say  can  be 
no  affair  of  such  as  I — one.  just  free  of  the  hangman's 
noose." 

"Oh !  don't !  I  pray  you.  Let  me  tell  you,  and  it  may 
make  a  difference.  It  must  pain  you,  I  know,  to  think  of 
me  as  you  do,  after — after — you  know ;  after  what  has 
passed  between  us." 

"Yes,  that  only  makes  it  all  the  harder.  If  you  could 
give  your  kisses — "  and  she  blushed  red  as  blood — "to 
one  for  whom  you  care  so  little  that  you  could  leave  him 
to  die  like  a  dog,  when  a  word  from  you  would  have  saved 
him,  what  reason  have  I  to  suppose  they  are  not  for  every 
man?" 

This  gave  Mary  an  opening  of  which  she  was  quick 
enough  to  take  advantage,  for  Brandon  was  in  the  wrong. 

"'You  know  that  is  not  true.  You  are  not  honest  with 
me  nor  with  yourself,  and  that  is  not  like  you.  You  know 
that  no  other  man  ever  had,  or  could  have,  any  favor  from 
me,  even  the  slightest.  Wantonness  is  not  among  my 
thousand  faults.  It  is  not  that  which  angers  you.  You 
are  sure  enough  of  me  in  that  respect.  In  truth,  I  had 
almost  come  to  believe  you  were  too  sure,  that  I  had  grown 
cheap  in  your  eyes,  and  you  did  not  care  so  much  as  I 


168      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

thought  and  hoped  for  what  I  had  to  give,  for  after  that 
day  you  came  not  near  me  at  all.  I  know  it  was  the  part 
of  wisdom  and  prudence  that  you  should  remain  away; 
but  had  you  cared  as  much  as  I,  your  prudence  would  not 
have  held  you." 

She  hung  her  head  a  moment  in  silence ;  then,  looking 
at  him,  almost  ready  for  tears,  continued :  "A  man  has  no 
right  to  speak  in  that  way  of  a  woman  whose  little  favors 
he  has  taken,  and  make  her  regret  that  she  has  given  a 
gift  only  that  it  may  recoil  upon  her.  'Little/  did  I  say  ? 
Sir,  do  you  know  what  that — first — kiss  was  to  me  ?  Had 
I  possessed  all  the  crowns  of  all  the  earth  I  would  have 
given  them  to  you  as  willingly.  Now  you  know  the  value 
I  placed  on  it,  however  worthless  it  was  to  you.  Yet  I 
was  a  cheerful  giver  of  that  great  gift,  was  I  not  ?  And 
can  you  find  it  in  your  heart  to  make  of  it  a  shame  to  me 
— that  of  which  I  was  so  proud?" 

She  stood  there  with  head  inclined  a  little  to  one  side, 
looking  at  him  inquiringly  as  if  awaiting  an  answer.  He 
did  not  speak,  but  looked  steadily  at  his  book.  I  felt, 
however,  that  he  was  changing,  and  was  sure  her  beauty, 
never  more  exquisite  than  in  its  present  humility,  would 
yet  atone  for  even  so  great  a  fault  as  hers.  Err,  look 
beautiful,  and  receive  remission !  Such  a  woman  as  Mary 
carries  her  indulgence  in  her  face. 

I  now  began  to  realize  for  the  first  time  the  wondrous 
power  oi  this  girl,  and  ceased  to  marvel  that  she  had 
always  been  able  to  turn  even  the  king,  the  most  violent, 
stubborn  man  on  earth,  to  her  own  wishes.  Her  manner 
made  her  words  eloquent,  and  already,  with  true  feminine 
tactics,  she  had  put  Brandon  in  the  wrong  in  everything 
because  he  was  wrong  in  part. 

Then  she  quickly  went  over  what  she  had  said  to  me. 


ATONEMENT  169 

She  told  of  her  great  dread  lest  the  king  should  learn  of 
the  visit  to  Grouche's  and  its  fatal  consequences,  know 
ing  full  well  it  would  render  Henry  impervious  to  her  in 
fluence  and  precipitate  the  French  marriage.  She  told 
him  of  how  she  was  going  to  the  king  the  day  after  the 
arrest  to  ask  his  release,  and  of  the  meeting  with  Bucking 
ham,  and  his  promise. 

Still  Brandon  said  nothing,  and  stood  as  if  politely  wait 
ing  for  her  to  withdraw. 

She  remained  silent  a  little  time,  waiting  for  him  to 
speak,  when  tears,  partly  of  vexation,  I  think,  moistened 
her  eyes. 

"Tell  me  at  least,"  she  said  "that  you  know  I  speak  the 
truth.  I  have  always  believed  in  you,  and  now  ask  for 
your  faith.  I  would  not  lie  to  you  in  the  faintest  shading 
of  a  thought — not  for  heaven  itself — not  even  for  your 
love  and  forgiveness,  as  much  as  they  are  to  me,  and  I 
want  to  know  that  you  are  sure  of  my  truthfulness,  if  you 
doubt  all  else.  You  see  I  speak  plainly  of  what  your  love 
is  to  me,  for  although,  by  remaining  away,  you  made  me 
fear  I  had  been  too  lavish  with  my  favors — that  is  every 
woman's  fear — I  knew  in  my  heart  you  loved  me ;  that  you 
could  not  have  done  and  said  what  you  did  otherwise. 
Now  you  see  what  faith  I  have  in  you,  and  you  a  man, 
whom  a  woman's  instinct  prompts  to  doubt.  How  does  it 
compare  with  your  faith  in  me,  a  woman,  whom  all  the 
instincts  of  a  manly  nature  should  dispose  to  trust?  It 
seems  to  be  an  unwritten  law  that  a  man  may  lie  to  a 
woman  concerning  the  most  important  thing  in  life  to  her, 
and  be  proud  of  it,  but  you  see  even  now  I  have  all  faith 
in  your  love  for  me,  else  I  surely  should  not  be  here.  You 
see  I  trust  even  your  unspoken  word,  when  it  might,  with 
out  much  blame  to  you,  be  a  spoken  lie;  yet  you  do  not 


170      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

trust  me,  who  have  no  world-given  right  to  speak  falsely 
about  such  things,  and  when  that  which  I  now  do  is  full 
of  shame  for  me,  and  what  I  have  done  full  of  guilt,  if  in 
spired  by  aught  but  the  purest  truth  from  my  heart  of 
hearts.  Your  words  mean  so  much — so  much  more,  I 
think,  than  you  realize — and  are  so  cruel  in  turning  to  evil 
the  highest,  purest  impulse  a  woman  can  feel — the  glow 
ing  pride  in  self-surrender,  and  the  sweet,  delightful  priv 
ilege  of  giving  where  she  loves.  How  can  you  ?  How  can 
you?" 

How  eloquent  she  was!  It  seemed  to  me  this  would 
have  melted  the  frozen  sea,  but  I  think  Brandon  felt  that 
now  his  only  hope  lay  in  the  safeguard  of  his  constantly 
upheld  indignation. 

When  he  spoke  he  ignored  all  she  had  said. 

"You  did  well  to  employ  my  Lord  of  Buckingham.  It 
will  make  matters  more  interesting  when  I  tell  you  it  was 
he  who  attacked  you  and  was  caught  by  the  leg  under  his 
wounded  horse ;  he  was  lame,  I  am  told,  for  some  time 
afterward.  I  had  watched  him  following  you  from  the 
gate  at  Bridewell,  and  at  once  recognized  him  when  his 
mask  fell  off  during  the  fight  by  the  wall.  You  have 
done  well  at  every  step,  I  see." 

"Oh,  God ;  to  think  of  it !  Had  I  but  known !  Buck 
ingham  shall  pay  for  this  with  his  head ;  but  how  could  I 
know?  I  was  but  a  poor,  distracted  girl,  sure  to  make 
some  fatal  error.  I  was  in  such  agony — your  wounds — • 
believe  me,  I  suffered  more  from  them  than  you  could. 
Every  pain  you  felt  was  a  pang  for  me — and  then  that 
awful  marriage !  I  was  being  sold  like  a  wretched  slave 
to  that  old  satyr,  to  be  gloated  over  and  feasted  upon.  No 
man  can  know  the  horror  of  that  thought  to  a  woman— 
to  any  woman,  good  or  bad.  To  have  one's  beauty  turn 


IT  IS  MY  TURN  TO  ASK 
FORGIVENESS    .    .    ." 


ATONEMENT  171 

to  curse  her  and  make  her  desirable  only — only  as  well- 
fed  cattle  are  prized.  Xo  matter  how  great  the  manifesta 
tion  of  such  so-called  love,  it  all  the  more  repels  a  woman 
and  adds  to  her  loathing  day  by  day.  Then  there  was 
something  else  worse  than  all," — she  was  almost  weeping 
now — "I  might  have  been  able  to  bear  the  thought  even  of 
that  hideous  marriage — others  have  lived  through  the  like 
• — but — but  after — that — that  day — when  you — it  seemed 
that  your  touch  was  a  spark  dropped  into  a  heart  full  of 
tinder,  which  had  been  lying  there  awaiting  it  all  these 
years.  In  that  one  moment  the  flame  grew  so  intense  I 
could  not  withstand  it.  My  throat  ached ;  I  could  scarcely 
breathe,  and  it  seemed  that  my  heart  would  burst."  Here 
the  tears  gushed  forth  as  she  took  a  step  toward  him  with 
outstretched  arms,  and  said  between  her  sobs :  "I  wanted 
you,  you !  for  my  husband — for  my  husband,  and  I  could 
not  bear  the  torturing  thought  of  losing  you  or  enduring 
any  other  man.  I  could  not  give  you  up  after  that — it 
was  all  too  late,  too  late;  it  had  gone  too  far.  I  was 
lost!  lost!" 

He  sprang  to  where  she  stood  leaning  toward  him,  and 
caught  her  to  his  breast. 

She  held  him  from  1~er  while  she  said:  "Xow  you 
know — now  you  know  .  .t  I  would  not  have  left  you  in 
that  terrible  place,  had  I  known  it.  Xo,  not  if  it  had  taken 
my  life  to  buy  your  freedom." 

"I  do  know ;  I  do  know.  Be  sure  of  that ;  I  know  it 
and  shall  know  it  always,  whatever  happens ;  nothing  can 
change  me.  I  will  never  doubt  you  again.  It  is  my  turn 
to  ask  forgiveness  now." 

"Xo,  no;  just  forgive  me;  that  is  all  I  ask,"  and  her 
head  was  on  his  breast. 

"Let  us  step  out  into  the  passage-way,  Edwin,"  said 


172      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

Jane,  and  we  did.  There  were  times  when  Jane  seemed 
to  be  inspired. 

When  we  went  back  into  the  room  Mary  and  Brandon 
were  sitting  in  the  window-way  on  his  great  cloak.  They 
rose  and  came  to  us  holding  each  other's  hands,  and  Mary 
asked,  looking  up  to  him : 

"Shall  we  tell  them?" 

"As  you  like,  my  lady." 

Mary  was  willing,  and  looked  for  Brandon  to  speak,  so 
he  said:  "This  lady  whom  I  hold  by  the  hand  and  my 
self  have  promised  each  other  before  the  good  God  to  be 
husband  and  wife,  if  fortune  ever  so  favor  us  that  it  be 
possible." 

"No,  that  is  not  it,"  interrupted  Mary.  "There  is  no 
'if  in  it ;  it  shall  be,  whether  it  is  possible  or  not.  Noth 
ing  shall  prevent."  At  this  she  kissed  Jane  and  told  her 
how  she  loved  her,  and  gave  me  her  hand,  for  her  love 
was  so  great  within  her  that  it  overflowed  upon  every  one. 
She,  however,  always  had  a  plenitude  of  love  for  Jane, 
and  though  she  might  scold  her  and  apparently  misuse 
her,  Jane  was  as  dear  as  a  sister,  and  was  always  sure  of 
her  steadfast,  tried  and  lasting  affection. 

After  Mary  had  said  there  should  be  no  "if,"  Brandon 
replied : 

"Very  well,  Madame  Destiny."  Then  turning  to  us: 
"What  ought  I  to  do  for  one  who  is  willing  to  stoop  from 
so  high  an  estate  to  honor  me  and  be  my  wife  ?" 

"Love  her,  and  her  alone,  with  your  whole  heart,  as 
long  as  you  live.  That  is  all  she  wants,  I  am  sure,"  vol 
unteered  Jane,  sentimentally. 

"Jane,  you  are  a  Madam  Solomon,"  said  Mary,  with  a 
tone  of  her  old-time  laugh.  "Is  the  course  you  advise  as 
you  would  wish  to  be  done  by?"  And  she  glanced  mis- 


ATONEMENT  173 

chievously  from  Jane  to  me,  as  the  laugh  bubbled  up  from 
her  heart,  merry  and  soft  as  if  it  had  not  come  from  what 
was  but  now  the  home  of  grief  and  pain. 

"I  know  nothing  about  how  I  should  like  to  be  done 
by,"  said  Jane,  with  a  pout,  "but  if  you  have  such  re 
spect  for  my  wisdom  I  will  offer  a  little  more ;  I  think  it 
is  time  we  should  be  going." 

"Now  Jane,  you  are  growing  foolish  again;  I  will  not 
go  yet,"  and  Mary  made  manifest  her  intention  by  sitting 
down.  She  could  not  bring  herself  to  forego  the  pleasure 
of  staying,  dangerous  as  she  knew  it  to  be,  and  could  not 
bear  the  pain  of  parting,  even  for  a  short  time,  now  that 
she  had  Brandon  once  more.  The  time  was  soon  coming 
— but  I  am  too  fast  again. 

After  a  time  Brandon  said:  "I  think  Jane's  wisdom 
remains  with  her,  Alary.  It  is  better  that  you  do  not  stay, 
much  as  I  wish  to  have  you." 

She  was  ready  to  obey  him  at  once. 

When  she  arose  to  go  she  took  both  his  hands  in  hers 
and  whispered :  "  'Mary.'  I  like  the  name  on  your  lips," 
and,  then  glancing  hurriedly  over  her  shoulder  to  see  if 
Jane  and  I  were  looking,  lifted  her  face  to  him  and  ran 
after  us. 

We  were  a  little  in  advance  of  the  princess,  and,  as  we 
walked  along,  Jane  said  under  her  breath:  "Now  look 
out  for  trouble ;  it  will  come  quickly,  and  I  fear  for 
Master  Brandon  more  than  any  one.  He  has  made  a  noble 
fight  against  her  and  against  himself,  and  it  is  no  wonder 
she  loves  him." 

This  made  me  feel  a  little  jealous 

"Jane,  you  could  not  love  him,  could  you  ?"  I  asked. 

"No  matter  what  I  could  do,  Edwin ;  I  do  not,  and  that 
should  satisfy  you."  Her  voice  and  manner  said  more 


174      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

than  her  words.  The  hall  was  almost  dark,  and — I  have 
always  considered  that  occasion  one  of  my  lost  opportuni 
ties  ;  but  they  are  not  many. 

The  next  evening  Brandon  and  I,  upon  Lady  Mary's 
invitation,  went  up  to  her  apartments,  but  did  not  stay 
long  fearing  some  one  might  find  us  there  and  cause  trou 
ble.  We  would  not  have  gone  at  all  had  not  the  whole 
court  been  absent  in  London,  for  discovery  would  have 
been  a  serious  matter  to  one  of  us  at  least. 

As  I  told  you  once  before,  Henry  did  not  care  how  much 
Brandon  might  love  his  sister,  but  Buckingham  had  whis 
pered  suspicions  of  the  state  of  Mary's  heart,  and  his  own 
observations,  together  with  the  intercepted  note,  had  given 
these  suspicions  a  stronger  coloring,  so  that  a  very  small 
matter  might  turn  them  into  certainties. 

The  king  had  pardoned  Brandon  for  the  killing  of  the 
two  men  in  Billingsgate,  as  he  was  forced  to  do  under  the 
circumstances,  but  there  his  kindness  stopped.  After  a 
short  time  he  deprived  him  of  his  place  at  court,  and  all 
that  was  left  for  him  of  royal  favor  was  permission  to  re 
main  writh  me  and  live  at  the  palace  until  such  time  as  he 
should  sail  for  New  Spain. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
A  GIRL'S  CONSENT 

The  treaty  had  been  agreed  upon,  and  as  to  the  interna 
tional  arrangement,  at  least,  the  marriage  of  Louis  de  Va- 
lois  and  Mary  Tudor  was  a  settled  fact.  All  it  needed 
was  the  consent  of  an  eighteen-year-old  girl — a  small  mat 
ter,  of  course,  as  marriageable  women  are  but  commodities 
in  statecraft,  and  theoretically,  at  least,  acquiesce  in  every 
thing  their  liege  lords  ordain.  Lady  Mary's  consent  had 
been  but  theoretical,  but  it  was  looked  upon  by  every  one 
as  amounting  to  an  actual,  vociferated,  sonorous  "yes;" 
that  is  to  say,  by  every  one  but  the  princess,  who  had  no 
more  notion  of  saying  "yes"  than  she  had  of  reciting  the 
Sanscrit  vocabulary  from  the  pillory  of  Smithfield. 

Wolsey,  whose  manner  was  smooth  as  an  otter's  coat, 
had  been  sent  to  fetch  the  needed  "yes" ;  but  he  failed. 

Jane  told  me  about  it. 

Wolsey  had  gone  privately  to  see  the  princess,  and  had 
thrown  out  a  sort  of  skirmish  line  by  flattering  her  beauty, 
but  had  found  her  not  in  the  best  humor. 

"Yes,  yes,  my  lord  of  Lincoln,  I  know  how  beautiful 
I  am ;  no  one  knows  better ;  I  know  all  about  my  hair, 
eyes,  teeth,  eyebrows  and  skin.  I  tell  you  I  am  sick  of 
them.  Don't  talk  to  me  about  them ;  it  won't  help  you  to 
get  my  consent  to  marry  that  vile  old  creature.  That  is 
wrhat  you  have  come  for,  of  course.  I  have  been  expecting 
you ;  why  did  not  my  brother  come  ?" 

"  I  think  he  was  afraid;  and  to  tell  you  the  truth  I  was 

(175) 


176      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

afraid  myself,"  answered  Wolsey  with  a  smile.  This 
made  Mary  smile,  too,  in  spite  of  herself,  and  went  a  long 
way  toward  putting  her  in  a  good  humor.  Wolsey  contin 
ued  :  "His  majesty  could  not  have  given  me  a  more  dis 
agreeable  task.  You  doubtless  think  I  am  in  favor  of  this 
marriage,  but  I  am  not." 

This  was  as  great  a  lie  as  ever  fell  whole  out  of  a  bish 
op's  mouth.  "I  have  been  obliged  to  fall  in  with  the  king's 
views  on  the  matter,  for  he  has  had  his  mind  set  on  it  from 
the  first  mention  by  de  Longueville." 

"Was  it  that  bead-eyed  little  mummy  who  suggested  it  ?" 

"Yes,  and  if  you  marry  the  king  of  France  you  can  re 
pay  him  with  usury." 

'  'Tis  an  inducement,  by  my  troth." 

"I  do  not  mind  saying  to  you  in  confidence  that  I  think 
it  an  outrage  to  force  a  girl  like  you  to  marry  a  man  like 
Louis  of  France,  but  how  are  we  to  avoid  it?" 

By  the  "we"  Wolsey  put  himself  in  alliance  with  Mary, 
and  the  move  was  certainly  adroit. 

"How  are  we  to  avoid  it?  Have  no  fear  of  that,  my 
lord ;  I  will  show  you." 

"Oh!  but  my  dear  princess;  permit  me;  you  do  not 
seem  to  know  your  brother ;  you  can  not  in  any  way  avoid 
this  marriage.  I  believe  he  will  imprison  you  and  put  you 
on  bread  and  water  to  force  your  consent.  I  am  sure  you 
had  better  do  willingly  that  which  you  will  eventually  be 
compelled  to  do  anyway;  and  besides  there  is  another 
thought  that  has  come  to  me ;  shall  I  speak  plainly  before 
Lady  Bolingbroke  ?" 

"I  have  no  secrets  from  her." 

"Very  well;  it  is  this.  Louis  is  old  and  very  feeble; 
he  can  not  live  long,  and  it  may  be  that  you  can,  by  a 
ready  consent  now,  exact  a  promise  from  your  brother  to 


A  GIRL'S  CONSENT  I?7 

allow  you  your  own  choice  in  the  event  of  a  second  mar 
riage.  You  might  in  that  way  purchase  what  you  could 
not  bring  about  in  any  other  way." 

"How  do  you  know  that  I  want  to  purchase  aught  in 
any  way,  Master  Wolsey  ?  I  most  certainly  do  not  intend 
to  do  so  by  marrying  France." 

"I  do  not  know  that  you  wish  to  purchase  anything, 
but  a  woman's  heart  is  not  always  under  her  full  control, 
and  it  sometimes  goes  out  to  one  very  far  beneath  her  in 
station,  but  the  equal  of  any  man  on  earth  in  grandeur  of 
soul  and  nobleness  of  nature.  It  might  be  that  there  is 
such  a  man  whom  any  woman  would  be  amply  justified 
in  purchasing  at  any  sacrifice — doubly  so  if  it  were  buy 
ing  happiness  for  two." 

His  meaning  was  too  plain  even  to  pretend  to  misunder 
stand,  and  Mary's  eyes  flashed  at  him,  as  her  face  broke 
into  a  dimpling  smile  in  spite  of  her. 

Wolsey  thought  he  had  won,  and  to  clinch  the  victory 
said,  in  his  forceful  manner :  ''Louis  XII  will  not  live  a 
year ;  let  me  carry  to  the  king  your  consent,  and  I  guaran 
tee  you  his  promise  as  to  a  second  marriage." 

In  an  instant  Mary's  eyes  shot  fire,  and  her  face  was 
like  the  blackest  storm  cloud. 

"Carry  this  to  the  king:  that  I  will  see  him  and  the 
whole  kingdom  sunk  in  hell  before  I  will  marry  Louis  of 
France.  That  is  my  answer  once  and  for  all.  Good  even, 
Master  Wolsey."  And  she  swept  out  of  the  room  with 
head  up  and  dilating  nostrils ;  the  very  picture  of  defiance. 

St.  George !  She  must  have  looked  superb.  She  was 
one  of  the  few  persons  whom  anger  and  disdain  and  the 
other  passions  which  we  call  ungentle  seemed  to  illumine 
— they  were  so  strong  in  her,  and  yet  not  violent.  It 
seemed  that  every  deep  emotion  but  added  to  her  beauty 

12 


*7$      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

and  brought  it  out,  as  the  light  within  a  church  brings  out 
tfie  exquisite  figuring  on  the  windows. 

After  Wolsey  had  gone,  Jane  said  to  Mary:  "Don't 
jrou  think  it  would  have  been  better  had  you  sent  a  softer 
answer  to  your  brother?  I  believe  you  could  reach  his 
heart  even  now  if  you  were  to  make  the  effort.  You  have 
not  tried  in  this  matter  as  you  did  in  the  others." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  Jane.    I  will  go  to  Henry." 

Mary  waited  until  she  knew  the  king  was  alone,  and 
then  went  to  him. 

On  entering  the  room,  she  said:  "Brother,  I  sent  a 
hasty  message  to  you  by  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln  this  morn 
ing,  and  have  come  to  ask  your  forgiveness." 

"Ah!  little  sister;  I  thought  you  would  change  your 
mind.  Now  you  are  a  good  girl." 

"Oh !  do  not  misunderstand  me ;  I  asked  your  forgive 
ness  for  the  message ;  as  to  the  marriage,  I  came  to  tell 
you  it  would  kill  me,  and  that  I  could  not  bear  it.  Oh ! 
brother,  you  are  not  a  woman — you  can  not  know." 
Henry  flew  into  a  passion,  and  with  oaths  and  curses 
ordered  her  to  leave  him  unless  she  was  ready  to  give  her 
consent.  She  had  but  two  courses  to  take,  so  she  left  with 
her  heart  full  of  hatred  for  the  most  brutal  wretch  who 
ever  sat  upon  a  throne — and  that  is  making  an  extreme 
case.  As  she  was  going,  she  turned  upon  him  like  a  fury, 
and  exclaimed : 

"Never,  never!    Do  you  hear?    Never!" 

Preparations  went  on  for  the  marriage  just  as  if  Mary 
had  given  her  solemn  consent.  The  important  work  of 
providing  the  trousseau  began  at  once,  and  the  more  im 
portant  matter  of  securing  the  loan  from  the  London  mer 
chants  was  pushed  along  rapidly.  The  good  citizens  might 
cling  affectionately  to  their  angels,  double  angels,  crowns 


A  GIRL'S  CONSENT  179 

and  pounds  sterling,  but  the  fear  in  which  they  held  the 
king,  and  a  little  patting  of  the  royal  hand  upon  the  ple 
beian  head,  worked  the  charm,  and  out  came  the  yellow 
gold,  never  to  be  seen  again,  God  wot.  Under  the  stim 
ulus  of  the  royal  smile  they  were  ready  to  shout  themselves 
hoarse,  and  to  eat  and  drink  themselves  red  in  the  face  in 
celebration  of  the  v.  adding  day.  In  short,  they  were  ready 
to  be  tickled  nearly  to  death  for  the  honor  of  paying  to  a 
wretched  old  lecher  a  wagon-load  of  gold  to  accept,  as  a 
gracious  gift,  the  most  beautiful  heart-broken  girl  in  the 
world.  That  is,  she  would  have  been  heart-broken  had  she 
not  been  inspired  with  courage.  As  it  was,  she  wasted 
none  of  her  energy  in  lamentations,  but  saved  it  all  to 
fight  with.  Heavens  !  how  she  did  fight !  If  a  valiant  de 
fense  ever  deserved  victory,  it  was  in  her  case.  When  the 
queen  went  to  her  with  silks  and  taffetas  and  fine  cloths  to 
consult  about  the  trousseau,  although  the  theme  was  one 
which  would  interest  almost  any  woman,  she  would  have 
none  of  it,  and  when  Catherine  insisted  upon  her  trying  on 
a  certain  gown,  she  called  her  a  blackamoor,  tore  the  gar 
ment  to  pieces,  and  ordered  her  to  leave  the  room. 

Henry  sent  Wolsey  to  tell  her  that  the  I3th  day  of  Aug 
ust  had  been  fixed  upon  as  the  day  of  the  marriage,  de 
Longueville  to  act  as  the  French  king's  proxy,  and 
Wolsey  was  glad  to  come  off  with  his  life. 

Matters  were  getting  into  a  pretty  tangle  at  the  palace. 
Alar}*  would  not  speak  to  the  king,  and  poor  Catherine 
was  afraid  to  come  within  arm's  length  of  her;  Wrolsey 
was  glad  to  keep  out  of  her  way,  and  she  flew  at  Bucking 
ham  with  talons  and  beak  upon  first  sight.  As  to  the  bat 
tle  with  Buckingham,  it  was  short  but  decisive,  and  this 
was  the  way  it  came  about:  There  had  been  a  passage 
between  the  duke  and  Brandon,  in  which  the  latter  had 


l8o      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

tried  to  coax  the  former  into  a  duel,  the  only  way,  of 
course,  to  settle  the  weighty  matters  between  them.  Buck 
ingham,  however,  had  had  a  taste  of  Brandon's  nimble 
sword  play,  and,  bearing  in  mind  Judson's  fate,  did  not 
care  for  any  more.  They  had  met  by  accident,  and  Bran 
don,  full  of  smiles  and  as  polite  as  a  Frenchman,  greeted 
him. 

"Doubtless  my  lord,  having  crossed  swords  twice  with 
me,  will  do  me  the  great  honor  to  grant  that  privilege  the 
third  time,  and  will  kindly  tell  me  where  my  friend  can 
wait  upon  a  friend  of  his  grace." 

"There  is  no  need  for  us  to  meet  over  that  little  affair. 
You  had  the  best  of  it,  and  if  I  am  satisfied  you  should 
be.  I  was  really  in  the  wrong,  but  I  did  not  know  the 
princess  had  invited  you  to  her  ball." 

"Your  lordship  is  pleased  to  evade,"  returned  Brandon. 
"It  is  not  the  ball-room  matter  that  I  have  to  complain  of; 
as  you  have  rightly  said,  if  you  are  satisfied,  I  certainly 
should  be ;  but  it  is  that  your  lordship,  in  the  name  of  the 
king,  instructed  the  keeper  of  Newgate  prison  to  confine 
me  in  an  underground  cell,  and  prohibited  communica 
tion  with  any  of  my  friends.  You  so  arranged  it  that  my 
trial  should  be  secret,  both  as  to  the  day  thereof  and 
the  event,  in  order  that  it  should  not  be  known  to  those 
who  might  be  interested  in  my  release.  You  promised  the 
Lady  Mary  that  you  would  procure  my  liberty,  and  there 
by  prevented  her  going  to  the  king  for  that  purpose,  and 
afterwards  told  her  it  had  all  been  done,  as  promised,  and 
that  I  had  escaped  to  New  Spain.  It  is  because  of  this,  my 
Lord  Buckingham,  that  I  now  denounce  you  as  a  liar,  a 
coward  and  a  perjured  knight,  and  demand  of  you  such 
satisfaction  as  one  man  can  give  to  another  for  mortal  in- 


A  GIRL'S  CONSENT  l8l 

jury.  If  you  refuse,  I  will  kill  you  as  I  would  a  cut-throat 
the  next  time  I  meet  you." 

"I  care  nothing  for  your  rant,  fellow,  but  out  of  con 
sideration  for  the  feelings  which  your  fancied  injuries 
have  put  into  your  heart,  I  tell  you  that  I  did  what  I 
could  to  liberate  you,  and  received  from  the  keeper  a  prom 
ise  that  you  should  be  allowed  to  escape.  After  that  a  cer 
tain  letter  addressed  to  you  was  discovered  and  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  king — a  matter  in  which  I  had  no  part. 
As  to  your  confinement  and  non-communication  with  your 
friends,  that  was  at  his  majesty's  command  after  he  had 
seen  the  letter,  as  he  will  most  certainly  confirm  to  you.  I 
say  this  for  my  own  sake,  not  that  I  care  what  you  may 
say  or  think." 

This  offer  of  confirmation  by  the  king  made  it  all  sound 
like  the  truth,  so  much  will  even  a  little  truth  leaven  a 
great  lie ;  and  part  of  Brandon's  sails  came  down  against 
the  mast.  The  whole  statement  surprised  him,  and,  most 
of  all,  the  intercepted  letter.  What  letter  could  it  have 
been  ?  It  was  puzzling,  and  yet  he  dared  not  ask. 

As  the  duke  was  about  to  walk  away,  Brandon  stopped 
him :  "One  moment,  your  grace ;  I  am  willing  to  admit 
what  you  have  said,  for  I  am  not  now  prepared  to  contra 
dict  it;  but  there  is  yet  another  matter  we  have  to  settle. 
You  attacked  me  on  horseback,  and  tried  to  murder  me  in 
order  to  abduct  two  ladies  that  night  over  in  Billingsgate. 
That  you  can  not  deny.  I  watched  you  follow  the  ladies 
from  Bridewell  to  Grouche's,  and  saw  your  face  when  your 
mask  fell  off  during  the  melee  as  plainly  as  I  see  it  now. 
If  other  proof  is  wanting,  there  is  that  sprained  knee  upon 
which  your  horse  fell,  causing  you  to  limp  even  yet.  I 
am  sure  now  that  my  lord  will  meet  me  like  a  man;  or 
would  he  prefer  that  I  should  go  to  the  king  and  tell  him 


182      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

and  the  world  the  whole  shameful  story?  I  have  concealed 
it  heretofore,  thinking  it  my  personal  right  and  privilege 
to  settle  with  you." 

Buckingham  turned  a  shade  paler  as  he  replied :  "I  do 
not  meet  such  as  you  on  the  field  of  honor,  and  have  no 
fear  of  your  slander  injuring  me." 

He  felt  secure  in  the  thought  that  the  girls  did  not  know 
who  had  attacked  them,  and  could  not  corroborate  Bran 
don  in  his  accusation,  or  Mary,  surely,  never  would  have 
appealed  to  him  for  help. 

I  was  with  Brandon — at  a  little  distance,  that  is — when 
this  occurred,  and  after  Buckingham  had  left,  we  went  to 
find  the  girls  in  the  forest.  We  knew  they  would  be  look 
ing  for  us,  although  they  would  pretend  surprise  when 
they  saw  us.  We  soon  met  them,  and  the  very  leaves  of 
the  trees  gave  a  soft,  contented  rustle  in  response  to  Mary's 
low,  mellow  laugh  of  joy. 

After  perhaps  half  an  hour,  we  encountered  Bucking 
ham  with  his  lawyer-knight,  Johnson.  They  had  evidently 
walked  cut  to  this  quiet  path  to  consult  about  the  situation. 
As  they  approached,  Mary  spoke  to  the  duke  with  a 
vicious  sparkle  in  her  eyes. 

"My  Lord  Buckingham,  this  shall  cost  you  your  head ; 
remember  my  words  when  you  are  on  the  scaffold,  just 
when  your  neck  fits  into  the  hollow  of  the  block." 

He  stopped,  with  an  evident  desire  to  explain,  but  Mary 
pointed  down  the  path  and  said,  "Go,  or  I  will  have  Mas 
ter  Brandon  spit  you  on  his  sword.  Two  to  one  would 
be  easy  odds  compared  with  the  four  to  one  you  put 
against  him  in  Billingsgate.  Go!"  And  the  battle  was 
over,  the  foe  never  having  struck  a  blow.  It  hurt  me  that 
Mary  should  speak  of  the  odds  being  two  to  one  against 


A  GIRL'S  CONSENT  183 

Brandon  when  I  was  at  hand.     It  is  true  I  was  not  very 
large,  but  I  could  have  taken  care  of  a  lawyer. 

Now  it  was  that  the  lawyer  knight  earned  his  bread  by 
his  wits,  for  it  was  he,  I  know,  who  instigated  the  next 
move — a  master  stroke  in  its  way,  and  one  which  proved 
a  checkmate  to  us.  It  was  this:  the  duke  went  at  once 
to  the  king,  and,  in  a  tone  of  injured  innocence,  told  him 
of  the  charge  made  by  Brandon  with  Mary's  evident  ap 
proval,  and  demanded  redress  for  the  slander.  Thus  it 
seemed  that  the  strength  of  our  position  was  about  to  be 
turned  against  us.  Brandon  was  at  once  summoned  and 
promptly  appeared  before  the  king,  only  too  anxious  to 
confront  the  duke.  As  to  the  confinement  of  Brandon  and 
his  secret  trial,  the  king  did  not  care  to  hear ;  that  was  a 
matter  of  no  consequence  to  him ;  the  important  question-, 
was,  did  Buckingham  attack  the  princess  ? 

Brandon  told  the  whole  straight  story  exactly  as  it  was,«s  I 
which  Buckingham  as  promptly  denied,  and  offered  to 
prove  by  his  almoner  that  he  was  at  his  devotions  on  the 
night  and  at  the  hour  of  the  attack.  So  here  was  a  con 
flict  of  evidence  which  called  for  new  witnesses,  and 
Henry  asked  Brandon  if  the  girls  had  seen  and  recognized 
the  duke.  To  this  question,  of  course,  he  was  compelled  to 
answer  no,  and  the  whole  accusation,  after  all,  rested  upon 
Brandon's  word,  against  which,  on  the  other  hand,  was  the 
evidence  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  and  his  convenient 
almoner. 

All  this  disclosed  to  the  full  poor  Mary's  anxiety  to 
help  Brandon,  and  the  duke  having  adroitly  let  out  the  fact 
that  he  had  just  met  the  princess  with  Brandon  at  a  certain 
secluded  spot  in  the  forest,  Henry's  suspicion  of  her  par 
tiality  received  new  force,  and  he  began  to  look  upon  the 


1 84      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

unfortunate  Brandon  as  a  partial  cause,  at  least,  of  Mary's 
aversion  to  the  French  marriage. 

Henry  grew  angry  and  ordered  Brandon  to  leave  the 
court,  with  the  sullen  remark  that  it  was  only  his  services 
to  the  princess  Mary  that  saved  him  from  a  day  with 
papers  on  the  pillory. 

This  was  not  by  any  means  what  Brandon  had  expected. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  fatality  for  him  about  everything 
connected  with  that  unfortunate  trip  to  Grouche's.  He 
had  done  his  duty,  and  this  was  his  recompense.  Virtue 
is  sometimes  a  pitiful  reward  for  itself,  notwithstanding 
much  wisdom  to  the  contrary. 

Henry  was  by  no  means  sure  that  his  suspicions  con 
cerning  Mary's  heart  were  correct,  and  in  all  he  had  heard 
he  had  not  one  substantial  fact  upon  which  to  base  convic 
tion.  He  had  not  seen  her  with  Brandon  since  their 
avowal,  or  he  would  have  had  a  fact  in  every  look,  the 
truth  in  every  motion,  a  demonstration  in  every  glance, 
She  seemed  powerless  even  to  attempt  concealment.  In 
Brandon's  handsome  manliness  and  evident  superiority, 
the  king  thought  he  saw  a  very  clear  possibility  for  Mary 
to  love,  and  where  there  is  such  a  possibility  for  a  girl,  she 
usually  fails  to  fulfill  expectations.  I  suppose  there  are 
more  wrong  guesses  as  to  the  sort  of  man  a  given  woman 
will  fall  in  love  with  than  on  any  other  subject  of  equal 
importance  in  the  whole  range  of  human  surmising.  It 
did  not,  however,  strike  the  king  that  way,  and  he,  in  com 
mon  with  most  other  sons  of  Adam,  supposing  that  he 
knew  all  about  it,  marked  Brandon  as  a  very  possible  and 
troublesome  personage.  For  once  in  the  history  of  the 
world  a  man  had  hit  upon  the  truth  in  this  obscure  mat 
ter,  although  he  had  no  idea  how  correct  he  was. 


A  GIRL'S  CONSENT  185 

Now,  all  this  brought  Brandon  into  the  deep  shadow  of 
the  royal  frown,  and,  like  many  another  man,  he  sunk  his 
fortune  in  the  fathomless  depths  of  a  woman's  heart,  and 
thought  himself  rich  in  doing  it. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
IN  THE  SIREN  COUNTRY 

With  the  king,  admiration  stood  Tor  affection,  a  mistake 
frequently  made  by  people  not  given  to  self-analysis,  and 
in  a  day  or  two  a  reaction  set  in  toward  Brandon  which 
inspired  a  desire  to  make  some  amends  for  his  harsh  treat 
ment.  This  he  could  not  do  to  any  great  extent,  on  Buck 
ingham's  account ;  at  least,  not  until  the  London  loan  was 
in  his  coffers,  but  the  fact  that  Brandon  was  going  to  New 
Spain  so  soon  and  would  be  out  of  the  way,  both  of  Mary's 
eyes  and  Mary's  marriage,  stimulated  that  rare  flower  in 
Henry's  heart,  a  good  resolve,  and  Brandon  was  offered 
his  old  quarters  with  me  until  such  time  as  he  should  sail 
for  New  Spain. 

He  had  never  abandoned  this  plan,  and  now  that  mat 
ters  had  taken  this  turn  with  Mary  and  the  king,  his  reso 
lution  was  stronger  than  ever,  in  that  the  scheme  held  two 
recommendations  and  a  possibility. 

The  recommendations  were,  first,  it  would  take  him 
away  from  Mary,  with  whom — when  out  of  the  inspiring 
influence  of  her  buoyant  hopefulness — he  knew  marriage 
to  be  utterly  impossible ;  and  second,  admitting  and  facing 
that  impossibility,  he  might  find  at  least  partial  relief  from 
his  heartache  in  the  stirring  events  and  adventures  of 
that  far  away  land  of  monsters,  dragons,  savages  and 
gold.  The  possibility  lay  in  the  gold,  and  a  very  faintly 
burning  flame  of  hope  held  out  the  still  more  faintly  glim 
mering  chance  that  fortune,  finding  him  there  almost 

(186) 


iN  THE  SIREN  COUNTRY  187 

alone,  might,  for  lack  of  another  lover,  smile  upon  him  by   ! 
way  of  squaring  accounts.     She  might  lead  him  to  a 
cavern  of  gold,  and  gold  would  do  anything;  even,  per-    j 
haps,  purchase  so  priceless  a  treasure  as  a  certain  princess   j 
of  the  blood  royal.     He  did  not,  however,  dwell  much  on 
this  possibility,  but  kept  the  delightful  hope  well  neutral 
ized  with  a  constantly  present  sense  of  its  improbability, 
in  order  to  save  the  pain  of  a  long  fall  when  disappoint 
ment  should  come. 

Brandon  at  once  accepted  the  king's  offer  of  lodging  in 
the  palace,  for  now  that  he  felt  sure  of  himself  in  the  mat 
ter  of  New  Spain,  and  his  separation  from  Mary,  he 
longed  to  see  as  much  as  possible  of  her  before  the  light 
went  out  forever,  even  though  it  were  playing  with  death 
itself  to  do  so. 

Poor  fellow,  his  suffering  was  so  acute  during  this  pe 
riod  that  it  affected  me  like  a  contagion. 

It  did  not  make  a  mope  of  him,  but  came  in  spasms  that 
almost  drove  him  wild.  He  would  at  times  pace  the  room 
and  cry  out:  "Jesu-  Caskoden,  what  shall  I  do?  She 
will  be  the  wife  of  the  French  king,  and  I  shall  sit  in  the 
wilderness  and  try  every  moment  to  imagine  what  she 
is  doing  and  thinking.  I  shall  find  the  bearing  of  Paris, 
and  look  in  her  direction  until  my  brain  melts  in  my  effort 
to  see  her,  and  then  I  shall  wander  in  the  woods,  a  suffer 
ing  imbecile,  feeding  on  roots  and  nuts.  Would  to  God 
one  of  us  might  die.  If  it  were  not  selfish,  I  should  wish 
I  might  be  the  one.'* 

I  said  nothing  in  answer  to  these  outbursts,  as  I  had  no 
consolation  to  offer. 

We  had  two  or  three  of  our  little  meetings  of  four, 
dangerous  as  they  were,  at  which  Mary,  feeling  that  each 
time  she  saw  Brandon  might  be  the  last,  would  sit  and 


188      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

look  at  him  with  glowing  eyes  that  in  turn  softened  and 
burned  as  he  spoke.  She  did  not  talk  much,  but  devoted 
all  her  time  and  energies  to  looking  with  her  whole  soul. 
Never  before  or  since  was  there  a  girl  so  much  in  love. 
A  young  girl  thoroughly  in  love  is  the  most  beautiful  ob 
ject  on  earth — beautiful  even  in  ugliness.  Imagine,  then, 
what  it  made  of  Mary ! 

Growing  partly,  perhaps,  out  of  his  unattainability — for 
he  was  as  far  out  of  her  reach  as  she  out  of  his — she 
had  long  since  begun  to  worship  him.  She  had  learned  to 
know  him  so  well,  and  his  valiant  defense  of  her  in  Bil 
lingsgate,  together  with  his  noble  self-sacrifice  in  refusing 
to  compromise  her  in  order  to  save  himself,  had  presented 
;  him  to  her  in  so  noble  a  light  that  she  had  come  to  love 
lup  to  him  as  her  superior.  Her  surrender  had  been  com- 
'plete,  and  she  found  in  it  a  joy  far  exceeding  that  of  any 
victory  or  triumph  she  could  imagine. 

I  could  not,  for  the  life  of  me,  tell  what  would  be  the 
outcome  of  it  all.  Mary  was  one  woman  in  ten  thousand, 
so  full  was  she  of  feminine  force  and  will — a  force  which 
we  men  pretend  to  despise,  but  to  which  in  the  end  we 
always  succumb. 

Like  most  women,  the  princess  was  not  much  given  to 
analysis ;  and,  I  think,  secretly  felt  that  this  matter  of  so 
great  moment  to  her  would,  as  everything  else  always  had, 
eventually  turn  itself  to  her  desire.  She  eould  not  see  the 
way,  but,  to  her  mind,  there  could  be  no  doubt  about  it  ? 
fate  was  her  friend ;  always  had  been,  and  surely  always 
would  be. 

With  Brandon  it  was  different;  experience  as  to  how 
the  ardently  hoped  for  usually  turns  out  to  be  the  sadly 
regretted,  together  with  a  thorough  face-to-face  analysis 
of  the  situation,  showed  him  the  truth,  all  too  clearly,  and 


IN  THE  SIREN  COUNTRY  189 

he  longed  for  the  day  when  he  should  go,  as  a  sufferer 
longs  for  the  surgeon's  knife  that  is  to  relieve  him  of  an 
aching  limb.  The  hopelessness  of  the  outlook  had  for  the 
time  destroyed  nearly  all  of  his  combativeness,  and  had 
softened  his  nature  almost  to  apathetic  weakness.  It 
would  do  no  good  to  struggle  in  a  boundless,  fathomless 
sea ;  so  he  was  ready  to  sink  and  was  going  to  New  Spain 
to  hope  no  more. 

Alary  did  not  see  what  was  to  prevent  the  separation, 
but  this  did  not  trouble  her  as  much  as  one  would  suppose,/ 
and  she  was  content  to  let  events  take  their  own  way,) 
hoping  and  believing  that  in  the  end  it  would  be  hersJ 
Events,  however,  continued  in  this  wrong  course  so  longj 
and  persistently,  that  at  last  the  truth  dawned  upon  her1 
and  she  began  to  doubt ;  and  as  time  flew  on  and  matters 
evinced  a  disposition  to  grow  worse  instead  of  better,  she 
gradually,  like  the  sun-dial  in  the  moonlight,  awakened  to  „ 
the  fact  that  there  was  something  wrong;  a  cog  loose1 
somewhere  in  the  complicated  machinery  of  fate — the 
fate  which  had  always  been  her  tried,  trusted  and  obe 
dient  servant. 

The  trouble  began  in  earnest  with  the  discovery  of  our 
meetings  in  Lady  Mary's  parlor.  There  was  nothing  at 
all  unusual  in  the  fact  that  small  companies  of  young  folk 
frequently  spent  their  evenings  with  her,  but  we  knew 
well  enough  that  the  unusual  element  in  our  parties  was 
their  exceeding  smallness.  A  company  of  eight  or  ten 
young  persons  was  well  enough,  although  it,  of  course, 
created  jealousy  on  the  part  of  those  who  were  left  out ; 
but  four — two  of  each  sex — made  a  difference  in  kind, 
however  much  we  might  insist  it  was  only  in  degree ;  and 
this  we  soon  learned  was  the  king's  opinion. 

You  may  be  sure  there  was  many  a  jealous  person  about 


190      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

the  court  ready  to  carry  tales,  and  that  it  was  impossible 
lonp;  to  keep  our  meetings  secret  among  such  a  host  as 
then  lived  in  Greenwich  palace. 

One  day  the  queen  summoned  Jane  and  put  her  to  the 
question.  Now  Jane  thought  the  truth  was  made  only  to 
be  told,  a  fallacy  into  which  many  good  people  have  fall 
en,  to  their  utter  destruction;  since  the  truth,  like  every 
other  good  thing,  may  be  abused. 

Well !  Janejold  it  all  in  a  moment^  and  Catherine  was 
so  horrified~thaT^hTwras~Trke  to  faint.  She  went  with  her 
hair-lifting  horror  to  the  king,  and  poured  into  his  ears  a 
tale  of  imprudence  and  debauchery  well  caculated  to  start 
his  righteous,  virtue-prompted  indignation  into  a  threaten 
ing  flame. 

Mary,  Jane,  Brandon  and  myself  were  at  once  sum 
moned  to  the  presence  of  both  their  majesties  and  soundly 
reprimanded.  Three  of  us  were  ordered  to  leave  the  court 
before  we  could  speak  a  word  in  self-defense,  and  Jane 
had  enough  of  her  favorite  truth  for  once.  Mary,  how 
ever,  came  to  our  rescue  with  her  coaxing  eloquence  and 
potent,  feminine  logic,  and  soon  convinced  Henry  that  the 
queen,  who  really  counted  for  little  with  him,  had  made  a 
mountain  out  of  a  very  small  mole-hill.  Thus  the  royal 
wrath  was  appeased  to  such  an  extent  that  the  order  for 
expulsion  was  modified  to  a  command  that  there  be  no 
more  quartette  gatherings  in  Lady  Mary's  parlor.  This 
leniency  was  more  easy  for  the  princess  to  bring  about, 
by  reason  of  the  fact  that  she  had  not  spoken  to  her 
brother  since  the  day  she  went  to  see  him  after  Wolsey's 
visit,  and  had  been  so  roughly  driven  off.  At  first,  upon 
her  refusal  to  speak  to  him— after  the  Wolsey  visit— 
Henry  was  angry  on  account  of  what  he  called  her  inso 
lence  ;  but  as  she  did  not  seem  to  care  for  that,  and  as  his 


IN  THE  SIREN  COUNTRY  191 

anger  did  nothing  toward  unsealing  her  lips,  he  pretended 
indifference.  Still  the  same  stubborn  silence  was  main 
tained.  This  soon  began  to  amuse  the  king,  and  o*f  late 
he  had  been  trying  to  be  on  friendly  terms  again  with  his 
sister  through  a  series  of  elephantine  antics  and  bear-like 
pleasantries,  which  were  the  most  dismal  failures — that  is, 
in  the  way  of  bringing  about  a  reconciliation.  They  were 
more  successful  from  a  comical  point  of  view.  So  Henry 
was  really  glad  for  something  that  would  loosen  the 
tongue  usually  so  lively,  and  for  an  opportunity  to  gratify 
his  sister  from  whom  he  was  demanding  such  a  sacrifice, 
and  for  whom  he  expected  to  receive  no  less  a  price  than 
the  help  of  Louis  of  France,  the  most  powerful  king  of 
Europe,  to  the  imperial  crown. 

Thus  our  meetings  were  broken  up,  and  Brandon  knew 
his  dream  was  over,  and  that  any  effort  to  see  the  princess 
would  probably  result  in  disaster  for  them  both ;  for  him 
certainly. 

The  king  upon  that  same  day  told  Mary  of  the  inter 
cepted  letter  sent  by  her  to  Brandon  at  Newgate,  and  ac 
cused  her  of  what  he  wras  pleased  to  term  an  improper 
feeling  for  a  low-born  fellow. 

Mary  at  once  sent  a  full  account  of  the  communication 
in  a  letter  to  Brandon,  who  read  it  with  no  small  degree  of 
ill  comfort  as  the  harbinger  of  trouble. 

"I  had  better  leave  here  soon,  or  I  may  go  without  my 
head,"  he  remarked.  "When  that  thought  gets  to  work 
ing  in  the  king's  brain,  he  will  strike,  and  I— shall  fall." 

Letters  began  to  come  to  our  rooms  from  Mary,  at  first 
begging  Brandon  to  come  to  her,  and  then  upbraiding  him 
because  of  his  coldness  and  cowardice,  and  telling  him  that 
if  he  cared  for  her  as  she  did  for  him,  he  would  see  her, 
though  he  had  to  wade  through  fire  and  blood.  That  was 


*92       WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

exactly  where  the  trouble  lay;  it  was  not  fire  and  blood 
through  which  he  would  have  to  pass;  they  were  small 
matters,  mere  nothings  that  would  really  have  added  zest 
and  interest  to  the  achievement.  But  the  frowning  laugh 
of  the  tyrant,  who  could  bind  him  hand  and  foot,  and  a 
vivid  remembrance  of  the  Newgate  dungeon,  with  a  dang 
ling  noose  or  a  hollowed-out  block  in  the  near  background, 
were  matters  that  would  have  taken  the  adventurous  ten- 
dency  out  of  even  the  cracked  brain  of  chivalry  itself. 
/  Brandon  cared  only  to  fight  where  there  was  a  possible 
!  victory  or  ransom,  or  a  prospect  of  some  sort,  at  least,  of 
I  achieving  success.  Bayard  preferred  a  stone  wall,  and 
thought  to  show  his  brains  by  beating  them  out  against  it, 
and  in  a  sense  he  could  do  it.  *  *  *  What  a  pity  this 
senseless,  stiff-kneed,  light-headed  chivalry  did  not  beat 
its  brains  out  several  centuries  before  Bayard  put  such  an 
absurd  price  upon  himself. 

So  every  phase  of  the  question  which  his  good  sense  pre 
sented  told  Brandon,  whose  passion  was  as  ardent  though 
not  so  impatient  as  Mary's,  that  it  would  be  worse  than 
foolhardy  to  try  to  see  her.  He,  however,  had  determined 
to  see  her  once  more  before  he  left,  but  as  it  could,  in  all 
probability,  be  only  once,  he  was  reserving  the  meeting 
until  the  last,  and  had  written  Mary  that  it  was  their  best 
and  only  chance. 

This  brought  to  Mary  a  stinging  realization  of  the  fact 
that  Brandon  was  about  to  leave  her  and  that  she  would 
lose  him  if  something  were  not  done  quickly.  Now  for 
Mary,  after  a  life  of  gratified  whims,  to  lose  the  very  thing 
she  wanted  most  of  all — that  for  which  she  would  willing 
ly  have  given  up  every  other  desire  her  heart  had  ever 
coined— was  a  thought  hardly  to  be  endured.  She  felt 


'SHE  WENT  ALONE,  ONE  AFTERNOON, 
TO  SEE  BRANDON." 


IN  THE  SIREN  COUNTRY  193 

that  the  world  would  surely  collapse.  It  could  not,  would 
not,  should  not  be. 

Her  vigorous  young  nerves  were  too  strong  to  be  be 
numbed  by  an  overwhelming  agony,  as  is  sometimes  the 
case  with  those  who  are  fortunate  enough  to  be  weaker,  so 
she  had  to  suffer  and  endure.  Life  itself,  yes,  life  a 
thousand  times,  was  slipping  away  from  her.  She  must 
be  doing  something  or  she  would  perish.  Poor  Mary ! 
How  a  grand  soul  like  hers,  full  of  faults  and  weakness, 
can  suffer.  What  an  infinite  disproportion  between  her 
susceptibility  to  pain  and  her  power  to  combat  it.  She 
had  the  maximum  capacity  for  one  and  the  minimum 
strength  for  the  other.  No  wonder  it  drove  her  almost 
mad — that  excruciating  pang  of  love. 

She  could  not  endure  inaction,  so  she  did  the  worst 
thing  possible.  She  went  alone,  one  afternoon,  just  be 
fore  dusk,  to  see  Brandon  at  our  rooms.  I  was  not  there 
when  she  first  went  in,  but,  having  seen  her  on  the  way, 
suspected  something  and  followed,  arriving  two  or  three 
minutes  after  her.  I  knew  it  was  best  that  I  should  be 
present,  and  was  sure  Brandon  would  wish  it.  When  I 
entered  they  were  holding  each  other's  hands,  in  silence. 
They  had  not  yet  found  their  tongues,  so  full  and  crowded 
were  their  hearts.  It  was  pathetic  to  see  them,  especially 
the  girl,  who  had  not  Brandon's  hopelessness  to  deaden 
the  pain  by  partial  resignation. 

Upon  my  entrance,  she  dropped  his  hands  and  turned 
quickly  toward  me  with  a  frightened  look,  but  was  reas 
sured  upon  seeing  who  it  was.  Brandon  mechanically 
walked  away  from  her  and  seated  himself  on  a  stool. 
Mary,  as  mechanically,  moved  to  his  side  and  placed  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder.  Turning  her  face  toward  me,  she 
said:  "Sir  Edwin,  I  know  you  will  forgive  me  when  I 


194      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

tell  you  that  we  have  a  great  deal  to  say  and  wish  to  be 
alone." 

I  was  about  to  go  when  Brandon  stopped  me. 

"No,  no;  Caskoden,  please  stay;  it  would  not  do.  It 
would  be  bad  enough,  God  knows,  if  the  princess  should 
be  found  here  with  both  of  us;  but,  with  me  alone,  I 
should  be  dead  before  morning.  There  is  danger  enough 
as  it  is,  for  they  will  watch  us." 

Mary  knew  he  was  right,  but  she  could  not  resist  a 
vicious  little  glance  toward  me,  who  was  in  no  way  to 
blame. 

Presently  we,  all  moved  into  the  window-way,  where 
Brandon  and  Mary  sat  upon  the  great  cloak  and  I  on  a 
camp-stool  in  front  of  them,  completely  filling  up  the  little 
passage. 

"I  can  bear  this  no  longer,"  exclaimed  Mary.  "I  will 
go  to  my  brother  to-night  and  tell  him  all ;  I  will  tell  him 
how  I  suffer,  and  that  I  shall  die  if  you  are  allowed  to  go 
away  and  leave  me  forever.  He  loves  me,  and  I  can  do 
anything  with  him  when  I  try.  I  know  I  can  obtain  his 
consent  to  our — our — marriage.  He  can  not  know  how  I 
suffer,  else  he  would  not  treat  me  so.  I  will  let  him  see — 
I  will  convince  him.  I  have  in  my  mind  everything  I 
want  to  say  and  do.  I  will  sit  on  his  knee  and  stroke  his 
hair  and  kiss  him."  And  she  laughed  softly  as  her  spirit 
revived  in  the  breath  of  a  growing  hope.  "Then  I  will 
tell  him  how  handsome  he  is,  and  how  I  hear  the  ladies 
sighing  for  him,  and  he  will  come  around  all  right  by  the 
third  visit.  Oh,  I  know  how  to  do  it ;  I  have  done  it  so 
often.  Never  fear !  I  wish  I  had  gone  at  it  long  ago." 

Her  enthusiastic  fever  of  hope  was  really  contagious, 
but  Brandon,  whose  life  was  at  stake,  had  his  wits  quick 
ened  by  the  danger. 


IN  THE  SIREN  COUNTRY  195 

"Mary,  would  you  like  to  see  me  a  corpse  before  to 
morrow  noon  ?"  he  asked. 

"Why !  of  course  not ;  why  do  you  ask  such  a  dreadful 
question  ?" 

"Because,  if  you  wish  to  make  sure  of  it,  do  what  you 
have  just  said — go  to  the  king  and  tell  him  all.  I  doubt 
if  he  could  wait  till  morning,  but  believe  he  would  awaken 
me  at  midnight  to  put  me  to  sleep  forever — at  the  end  of  a 
rope  or  on  a  block  pillow." 

"Oh!  no!  you  are  all  wrong;  I  know  what  I  can  do 
with  Henry." 

"If  that  is  the  case,  I  say  good-bye  now,  for  I  shall 
be  out  of  England,  if  possible,  by  midnight.  You  must 
promise  me  that  you  will  not  only  not  go  to  the  king  at 
all  about  this  matter,  but  that  you  will  guard  your  tongue, 
jealous  of  its  slightest  word,  and  remember  with  every 
breath  that  on  your  prudence  hangs  my  life,  which,  I 
know,  is  dear  to  you.  Do  you  promise?  If  you  do  not  I 
must  fly ;  so  you  will  lose  me  one  way  or  the  other,  if  you 
tell  the  king ;  either  by  my  flight  or  by  my  death." 

"I  promise,"  said  Mary,  with  drooping  head ;  the  em 
bodiment  of  despair;  all  life  and  hope  having  left  her 
again. 

After  a  few  minutes  her  face  brightened,  and  she  asked 
Brandon  what  ship  he  would  sail  in  for  New  Spain,  and 
whence. 

"We  sail  in  the  Royal  Hind,  from  Bristol,  in  about  a 
fortnight,"  he  replied. 

"How  many  go  out  in  her ;  and  are  there  any  women  ?" 

"No!  no!"  he  returned;  "no  woman  could  make  the 
trip ;  and,  besides,  on  ships  of  that  sort,  half  pirate,  half 
merchant,  they  do  not  take  women.  The  sailors  are  su 
perstitious  about  it  and  will  not  sail  with  them.  They 


196      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

say  they  bring  bad  luck — adverse  winds,  calms,  storms, 
blackness,  monsters  from  the  deep  and  victorious  foes." 

"The  ignorant  creatures !"  cried  Mary. 

Brandon  continued :  "There  will  be  a  hundred  men,  if 
the  captain  can  induce  so  many  to  enlist." 

"How  does  one  procure  passage  ?"  inquired  Mary. 

"By  enlisting  with  the  captain,  a  man  named  Bradhurst, 
at  Bristol,  where  the  ship  is  now  lying.  There  is  where 
I  enlisted  by  letter.  But  why  do  you  ask?" 

"Oh!  I  only  wanted  to  know." 

We  talked  awhile  on  various  topics,  but  Mary  always 
brought  the  conversation  back  to  the  same  subject,  the 
Royal  Hind  and  New  Spain.  After  asking  many  ques 
tions  she  sat  in  silence  for  a  time,  and  then  abruptly  broke 
into  one  of  my  sentences — she  was  always  interrupting 
me  as  if  I  were  a  parrot. 

"I  have  been  thinking  and  have  made  up  my  mind  what 
I  will  do,  and  you  shall  not  dissuade  me.  I  will  go  to  New 
Spain  with  you.  That  will  be  glorious — far  better  than 
the  humdrum  life  of  sitting  at  home — and  will  solve  the 
whole  question." 

"But  that  would  be  impossible,  Mary,"  said  Brandon, 
into  whose  face  this  new  evidence  of  her  regard  had 
brought  a  brightening  look ;  "utterly  impossible.  To  be 
gin  with,  no  woman  could  stand  the  voyage ;  not  even  you, 
strong  and  vigorous  as  you  are." 

"Oh,  yes  I  can,  and  I  will  not  allow  you  to  stop  me  for 
that  reason.  I  could  bear  any  hardship  better  than  the 
torture  of  the  last  few  weeks.  In  truth  I  can  not  bear  this 
at  all ;  it  is  killing  me,  so  what  would  it  be  when  you  are 
gone  and  I  am  the  wife  of  Louis  ?  Think  of  that,  Charles 
Brandon;  think  of  that,  when  I  am  the  wife  of  Louis. 
Even  if  the  voyage  kills  me,  I  might  as  well  die  one  way 


IK  THE  SIREN  COUNTRY  197 

as  another ;  and  then  I  should  be  with  you,  where  it  were 
sweet  to  die."  And  I  had  to  sit  there  and  listen  to  all  this 
foolish  talk ! 

Brandon  insisted :  "But  no  women  are  going ;  as  I  told 
you,  they  would  not  take  one ;  besides,  how  could  you  es 
cape  ?  I  will  answer  the  first  question  you  ever  asked  me. 
You  are  of  'sufficient  consideration  about  the  court'  for 
all  your  movements  to  attract  notice.  It  is  impossible ;  we 
must  not  think  of  it ;  it  can  not  be  done.  Why  build  up 
hopes  only  to  be  cast  down?" 

"Oh!  but  it  can  be  done;  never  doubt  it.  I  will  go, 
not  as  a  woman,  but  as  a  man.  I  have  planned  all  the 
details  while  sitting  here.  To-mcrrow  I  will  send  to  Bris 
tol  a  sum  of  money  asking  a  separate  room  in  the  ship  for 
a  young  nobleman  who  wishes  to  go  to  New  Spain  incog 
nito,  and  will  go  aboard  just  I.  fore  they  sail.  I  will  buy 
a  man's  complete  outfit,  and  v,  il  practice  being  a  man  be 
fore  you  and  Sir  Edwin."  tiere  she  blushed  so  that  I 
could  see  the  scarlet  even  in  the  gathering  gloom.  She 
continued :  "As  to  my  escape,  I  can  go  to  Windsor,  and 
then  perhaps  on  to  Berkeley  Castle,  over  by  Reading, 
where  there  will  be  no  one  to  watch  me.  You  can  leave 
at  once,  and  there  will  be  no  cause  for  them  to  spy  upon 
me  when  you  are  gone,  so  it  can  be  done  easily  enough. 
That  is  it ;  I  will  go  to  my  sister,  who  is  now  at  Berkeley 
Castle,  the  other  side  of  Reading,  you  know,  and  that  will 
make  a  shorter  ride  to  Bristol  when  we  start." 

The  thought,  of  course,  could  not  but  please  Brandon, 
to  \vhom,  in  the  warmth  of  Mary's  ardor,  it  had  almost  be 
gun  to  offer  hope ;  and  he  said  musingly :  "I  wonder  if 
it  could  be  done?  If  it  could — if  we  could  reach  New 
Spain,  we  might  build  ourselves  a  home  in  the  beautiful 
green  mountains  and  hide  ourselves  safely  away  from  all 


198      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

the  world,  in  the  lap  of  some  cosy  valley,  rich  with  nature's 
bounteous  gift  of  fruit  and  flowers,  shaded  from  the  hot 
sun  and  sheltered  from  the  blasts,  and  live  in  a  little  para 
dise  all  our  own.  What  a  glorious  dream ;  but  it  is  only 
a  dream,  and  we  had  better  awake  from  it." 

Brandon  must  have  been  insane ! 

"No !  no !  It  is  not  a  dream,"  interrupted  downright, 
determined  Mary ;  "it  is  not  a  dream ;  it  shall  be  a  reality. 
How  glorious  it  will  be;  I  can  see  our  little  house  now 
nestling  amo^g  the  hills,  shaded  by  great  spreading  trees 
with  flowers  and  vines  and  golden  fruit  all  about  it,  rich 
plumaged  birds  and  gorgeous  butterflies.  Oh!  I  can 
hardly  wait.  W/io  would  live  in  a  musty  palace  when 
they  have  witliin  reach  such  a  home,  and  that  too  with 
you." 

Here  »'«.  was  again.  I  thought  that  interview  would  be 
the  death  of  me. 

Brandon  held  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  then  looking  up 
said :  "It  is  only  a  question  of  your  happiness,  and  hard  as 
the  voyage  and  your  life  over  there  would  be,  yet  I  believe 
it  would  be  better  than  life  with  Louis  of  France ;  nothing 
could  be  so  terrible  as  that  to  both  of  us.  If  you  wish  to 
go,  I  will  try  to  take  you,  though  I  die  in  the  attempt, 
There  will  be  ample  time  to  reconsider,  so  that  you  can 
turn  back  if  you  wish." 

Her  reply  was  inarticulate,  though  satisfactory;  and  she 
took  his  hand  in  hers  as  the  tears  ran  gently  down  her 
cheeks ;  this  time  tears  of  joy — the  first  she  had  shed  for 
many  a  day. 

In  the  Siren  country  again  without  wax!  Overboard 
and  lost ! 

Yes,  Brandon's  resolution  not  to  see  Mary  was  well- 
taken,  if  it  could  only  have  been  as  well  kept.  Observe,, 


IN  THE  SIREN  COUNTRY  199 

as  we  progress,  into  what  the  breaking  of  it  led  him. 

He  had  known  that  if  he  should  but  see  her  once  more, 
his  already  toppling  will  would  lose  its  equipoise,  and 
he  would  be  led  to  attempt  the  impossible  and  invite  de 
struction.  At  first  this  scheme  appeared  to  me  in  its  true 
light,  but  Mary's  subtle  feminine  logic  made  it  seem  such 
plain  and  easy  sailing  that  I  soon  began  to  draw  enthusi 
asm  from  her  exhaustless  store,  and  our  combined  attack 
upon  Brandon  eventually  routed  every  vestige  of  caution 
and  common  sense  that  even  he  had  left. 

Siren  logic  has  always  been  irresistible  and  will  con 
tinue  so,  no  doubt,  despite  experience. 

I  can  not  define  what  it  was  about  Alary  that  made  her 
little  speeches,  half  argumentative,  all-pleading,  so  won 
derfully  persuasive.  Her  facts  were  mere  fancies,  and 
her  logic  was  not  even  good  sophistry.  As  to  real  argu 
ment  and  reasoning  there  was  nothing  of  either  in  them. 
It  must  have  been  her  native  strength  of  character  and 
intensely  vigorous  personality ;  some  unknown  force  of  na 
ture,  operating  through  her  occultly,  that  turned  the  chan 
nels  of  other  persons'  thoughts  and  filled  them  with  her 
own  will.  There  was  magic  in  her  power,  I  am  certain, 
but  unconscious  magic  to  Alan',  I  am  equally  sure.  She 
never  would  have  used  it  knowingly. 

There  was  still  another  obstacle  to  which  Alary  admin 
istered  her  favorite  remedy,  the  Gordian  knot  treatment. 
Brandon  said :  "It  can  not  be ;  you  are  not  my  wife,  and 
we  dare  not  trust  a  priest  here  to  unite  us." 

"Xo ;"  replied  Alary,  wTith  hanging  head,  "but  we  can 
• — can  find  one  over  there." 

"I  do  not  know  how  that  will  be;  we  shall  probably 
not  find  one ;  at  least,  I  fear ;  I  do  not  know." 

After  a  little  hesitation  she  answered :     "I  will  go  with 


200      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

you  any  way — and — and  risk  it.  I  hope  we  may  find  a 
priest,"  and  she  flushed  scarlet  from  her  throat  to  her 
hair. 

Brandon  kissed  her  and  said :  "You  shall  go,  my  brave 
girl.  You  make  me  blush  for  my  faint-heartedness  and 
prudence.  I  will  make  you  my  wife  in  some  way  as  sure 
as  there  is  a  God." 

Soon  after  this  Brandon  forced  himself  to  insist  on  her 
departure,  and  I  went  with  her  full  of  hope  and  completely 
blinded  to  the  dangers  of  our  cherished  scheme.  I  think 
Brandon  never  really  lost  sight  of  the  danger,  and  almost 
infinite  proportion  of  chance  against  this  wild,  reckless 
venture,  but  was  daring  enough  to  attempt  it  even  in  the 
face  of  such  clearly  seen  and  deadly  consequences. 

What  seems  to  be  bravery,  as  in  Mary's  case,  for  exam 
ple,  is  often  but  a  lack  of  perception  of  the  real  danger. 
True  bravery  is  that  which  dares  a  danger  fully  seeing  it. 
A  coward  may  face  an  unseen  danger,  and  his  act  may 
shine  with  the  lustre  of  genuine  heroism.  Mary  was 
brave,  but  it  was  the  feminine  bravery  that  did  not  see. 
Show  her  a  danger  and  she  was  womanly  enough — that  is 
if  you  could  make  her  see  it.  Her  willfulness  sometimes 
extended  to  her  mental  vision  and  she  would  not  see.  In 
common  with  many  others  she  needed  mental  spectacles 
at  timeSo 


CHAPTER  XV 

TO  MAKE  A  MAN  OF  HER 

So  it  was  all  arranged,  and  I  converted  part  of  Mary's 
jewels  into  money.  She  said  she  was  sorry  now  she  had 
not  taken  de  Longueville's  diamonds,  as  they  would  have 
added  to  her  treasure ;  I,  however,  procured  quite  a  large 
sum,  to  which  I  secretly  added  a  goodly  portion  out  of  my 
own  store.  At  Mary's  request  I  sent  part  to  Bradhurst  at 
Bristol,  and  retained  the  rest  for  Brandon  to  take  with 
him. 

A  favorable  answer  soon  came  from  Bristol,  giving  the 
young  nobleman  a  separate  room  in  consideration  of  the 
large  purse  he  had  sent. 

The  next  step  was  to  procure  the  gentleman's  wardrobe 
for  Mary.  This  was  a  little  troublesome  at  first,  for,  of 
course,  she  could  not  be  measured  in  the  regular  way.  We 
managed  to  overcome  this  difficulty  by  having  Jane  take 
the  measurements  under  instructions  received  from  the 
tailor,  which  measurements,  together  with  the  cloth,  I  took 
to  the  fractional  little  man  who  did  my  work. 

He  looked  at  the  measurements  with  twinkling  eyes,  and 
remarked:  "Sir  Edwin,  that  be  the  curiousest  shaped 
man  ever  I  see  the  measures  of.  Sure  it  would  make  a 
mighty  handsome  woman,  or  I  know  nothing  of  human 
dimensions." 

"Never  you  mind  about  dimensions ;  make  the  garments 
as  they  are  ordered  and  keep  your  mouth  shut,  if  you 
know  what  is  to  your  interest.  Do  you  hear?" 


202      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

He  delivered  himself  of  a  labored  wink.  "I  do  hear 
and  understand  too,  and  my  tongue  is  like  the  tongue  of  an 
obelisk." 

In  due  time  I  brought  the  suits  to  Mary,  and  they  were 
soon  adjusted  to  her  liking. 

The  days  passed  rapidly,  till  it  was  a  matter  of  less  than 
a  fortnight  until  the  Royal  Hind  would  sail,  and  it  really 
looked  as  if  the  adventure  might  turn  out  to  our  desire. 

Jane  was  in  tribulation,  and  thought  she  ought  to  be 
taken  along.  This,  you  may  be  sure,  was  touching  me 
very  closely,  and  I  began  to  wish  the  whole  infernal  mess 
at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  If  Jane  went,  his  august  maj 
esty,  King  Henry  VIII,  would  be  without  a  Master  of 
Dance,  just  as  sure  as  the  stars  twinkled  in  the  firmament. 
It  was,  however,  soon  decided  that  Brandon  would  have 
his  hands  more  than  full  to  get  off  with  one  woman,  and 
that  two  would  surely  spoil  the  plan.  So  Jane  was  to  be 
left  behind,  full  of  tribulation  and  indignation,  firmly  con 
vinced  that  she  was  being  treated  very  badly. 

Although  at  first  Jane  was  violently  opposed  to  the 
scheme,  she  soon  caught  the  contagious  ardor  of  Mary's 
enthusiasm,  and  knowing  that  her  dear  lady's  every  chance 
of  happiness  was  staked  upon  the  throw,  grew  more  rec 
onciled.  To  a  person  of  Jane's  age,  this  venture  for  love 
offers  itself  as  the  last  and  only  cast — the  cast  for  all — 
and  in  this  particular  case  there  was  enough  of  romance 
to  catch  the  fancy  of  any  girl.  Nothing  was  lacking  to 
make  it  truly  romantic.  The  exalted  station  of  at  least 
one  of  the  lovers ;  the  rough  road  of  their  true  love ;  the 
elopement,  and,  above  all,  the  elopement  to  a  new  world, 
with  a  cosy  hut  nestling  in  fragrant  shades  and  glad  with 
the  notes  of  love  from  the  throats  of  countless  song-birds 
— what  more  could  a  romantic  girl  desire?  So,  to  my 


TO  MAKE  A  MAN  OF  HER  203 

surprise,  Jane  became  more  than  reconciled,  and  her  fever 
of  anticipation  and  excitement  grew  apace  with  Mary's 
as  the  time  drew  on. 

Mary's  vanity  was  delighted  with  her  elopement  trous 
seau,  for  of  course  it  must  be  of  the  finest.  Not  that  the 
quality  was  any  better  than  her  own,  but  the  doublet  and 
hose  showed  so  differently  on  her.  She  paraded  for  an 
hour  or  so  before  Jane,  and  as  she  became  accustomed 
to  the  new  garb,  and  as  the  steel  reflected  a  most  beautiful 
image,  she  determined  to  show  herself  to  Brandon  and  me. 
She  said  she  wanted  to  become  accustomed  to  being  seen 
in  her  doublet  and  hose,  and  would  begin  with  us.  She 
thought  if  she  could  not  bear  our  gaze  she  should  surely 
make  a  dismal  failure  on  shipboard  among  so  many 
strange  men.  There  was  some  good  reasoning  in  this, 
and  it,  together  with  her  vanity,  overruled  her  modesty, 
and  prompted  her  to  come  to  see  us  in  her  character  of 
young  nobleman.  Jane  made  one  of  her  mighty  protests, 
so  infinitely  disproportionate  in  size  to  her  little  ladyship, 
but  the  self-willed  princess  would  not  listen  to  her,  and 
was  for  coming  alone  if  Jane  would  not  come  with  her. 
Once  having  determined,  as  usual  with  her,  she  wasted  no 
time  about  it,  but  throwing  a  long  cloak  over  her  shoul 
ders  started  for  our  rooms  with  angry,  \veeping,  protest 
ing  Jane  at  her  heels. 

When  I  heard  the  knock  I  was  sure  it  was  the  girls,  for 
though  Mary  had  promised  Brandon  she  would  not,  un 
der  any  circumstances,  attempt  another  visit,  I  knew  so 
well  her  utter  inability  to  combat  her  desire,  and  her  reck 
less  disregard  of  danger  where  there  was  a  motive  suffi 
cient  to  furnish  the  nerve  tension,  that  I  was  sure  she 
would  come,  or  try  to  come,  again. 

I  have  spoken   before  about  the  quality  of  bravery. 


204      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

What  is  it,  after  all,  and  how  can  we  analyze  it?  Wom 
en,  we  say,  are  cowardly,  but  I  have  seen  a  woman  take 
a  risk  that  the  bravest  man's  nerve  would  turn  on  edge 
against.  How  is  it?  Can  it  be  possible  that  they  are 
braver  than  we?  That  our  bravery  is  of  the  vaunting 
kind  that  telleth  of  itself?  My  answer,  made  up  from  a 
long  life  of  observation,  is:  "Yes!  Given  the  motive, 
and  a  woman  is  the  bravest  creature  on  earth."  Yet  how 
foolishly  timid  they  are  at  times ! 

I  admitted  the  girls,  and  when  the  door  was  shut  Mary 
unclasped  the  bropcli  at  her  throat  and  the  great  cloak  fell 
at  her  heel^~Out  she  stepped,  with  a  little  laugh  of  de- 
light^efethed  in  doublet,  hose,  and  confusion — the  pretti 
est  picture  mortal  eyes  ever  rested  on.  Her  hat,  some 
thing  on  the  broad,  flat  style  with  a  single  white  plume  en 
circling  the  crown,  was  of  purple  velvet  trimmed  in  gold 
braid  and  touched  here  and  there  with  precious  stones. 
Her  doublet  was  of  the  same  purple  velvet  as  her  hat, 
trimmed  in  lace  and  gold  braid.  Her  short  trunks  were 
of  heavy  black  silk  slashed  by  yellow  satin,  with  hose  of 
lavender  silk;  and  her  little  shoes  were  of  russet  French 
leather.  Quite  a  rainbow  you  will  say — but  such  a  rain 
bow! 

Brandon  and  I  were  struck  dumb  with  admiration  and 
could  not  keep  from  showing  it.  This  disconcerted  the 
girl,  and  increased  her  embarrassment  until  we  could  not 
tell  which  was  the  prettiest — the  garments,  the  girl  or  the 
confusion ;  but  this  I  know,  the  whole  picture  was  as  sweet 
and  beautiful  as  the  eyes  of  man  could  behold. 

Fine  feathers  will  not  make  fine  birds,  and  Mary's  mas 
culine  attire  could  no  more  make  her  look  like  a  man  than 
harness  can  disguise  the  graces  of  a  gazelle.  Nothing 
could  conceal  her  intense,  exquisite  womanhood.  With 


TO  MAKE  A  MAN  OF  HER  205 

our  looks  of  astonishment  and  admiration  Mary's  blushes 
deepened. 

"What  is  the  matter?    Is  anything  wrong?"  she  asked. 

"Nothing  is  wrong,"  answered  Brandon,  smiling  in 
spite  of  himself;  "nothing  on  earth  is  wrong  with  you, 
you  may  be  sure.  You  are  perfect — that  is,  for  a  woman ; 
and  one  who  thinks  there  is  anything  wrong  about  a  per 
fect  woman  is  hard  to  please.  But  if  you  flatter  yourself 
that  you,  in  any  way,  resemble  a  man,  or  that  your  dress 
in  the  faintest  degree  conceals  your  sex,  you  are  mis 
taken.  It  makes  it  only  more  apparent." 

"How  can  that  be?"  asked  Mary,  in  comical  tribulation ; 
"is  not  this  a  man's  doublet  and  hose,  and  this  hat — is 
it  not  a  man's  hat?  They  are  all  for  a  man;  then  why 
do  I  not  look  like  one,  I  ask?  Tell  me  what  is  wrong. 
Oh !  I  thought  I  looked  just  like  a  man;  I  thought  the  dis 
guise  was  perfect." 

"Well,"  returned  Brandon,  "if  you  will  permit  me  to 
say  so,  you  are  entirely  too  symmetrical  and  shapely  ever 
to  pass  for  a  man." 

The  flaming  color  was  in  her  cheeks,  as  Brandon  went 
on:  "Your  feet  are  too  small,  even  for  a  boy's  feet.  I 
don't  think  you  could  be  made  to  look  like  a  man  if  you 
worked  from  now  till  doomsday." 

Brandon  spoke  in  a  troubled  tone,  for  he  was  beginning 
to  see  in  Mary's  perfect  and  irrepressible  womanhood  an 
insurmountable  difficulty  right  across  his  path. 

"As  to  your  feet,  you  might  find  larger  shoes,  or,  better 
still,  jack-boots;  and,  as  to  your  hose,  you  might  wear 
longer  trunks,  but  what  to  do  about  the  doublet  I  am  sure  I 
do  not  know." 

Mary  looked  up  helpless  and  forlorn,  and  the  hot  face 


806      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

went  into  her  bended  elbow  as  a  realization  of  the  situation 
seemed  to  dawn  upon  her, 

"Oh !  I  wish  I  had  not  come.  But  I  wanted  to  grow 
accustomed  so  that  I  could  wear  them  before  others.  I  be 
lieve  I  could  bear  it  more  easily  with  any  one  else.  I  did 
not  think  of  it  in  that  way,"  and  she  snatched  her  cloak 
from  where  it  had  fallen  on  the  floor  and  threw  it  around 
her. 

"What  way,  Mary  ?"  asked  Brandon  gently,  and  receiv 
ing  no  answer.  "But  you  will  have  to  bear  my  looking  at 
you  all  the  time  if  you  go  with  me." 

*'I  don't  believe  I  can  do  it." 

"No,  no,"  answered  he,  bravely  attempting  cheerful 
ness;  "we  may  as  well  give  it  up.     I  have  had  no  hope 
from  the  first.    I  knew  it  could  not  be  done,  and  it  should 
•    not.    I  was  both  insane  and  criminal  to  think  of  permitting 
i   you  to  try  it." 

Brandon's  forced  cheerfulness  died  out  with  his  words, 
and  he  sank  into  a  chair  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and 
his  face  in  his  hands.  Mary  ran  to  him  at  once.  There 
had  been  a  little  moment  of  faltering,  but  there  was  no  real 
surrender  in  her. 

Dropping  on  her  knee  beside  him,  she  said  coaxingly : 
"Don't  give  up ;  you  are  a  man ;  you  must  not  surrender, 
and  let  me,  a  girl,  prove  the  stronger.  Shame  upon  you 
when  I  look  up  to  you  so  much  and  expect  you  to  help  me 
be  brave.  I  kwill  go.  I  will  arrange  myself  in  some  way 
Oh  !  why  am  I  not  different ;  I  wish  I  were  as  straight  as 
the  queen,"  and  for  that  first  time  in  her  life  she  bewailed 
her  beauty,  because  it  stood  between  her  and  Brandon. 

She  soon  coaxed  him  out  of  his  despondency,  and  we 
began  again  to  plan  the  matter  in  detail 


TO  MAKE  A  MAN  OF  HER  207 

The  girls  sat  on  Brandon's  cloak  and  he  and  I  on  the 
camp-stool  and  a  box. 

Mary's  time  was  well  occupied  in  vain  attempts  to 
keep  herself  covered  with  the  cloak,  which  seemed  to  have 
a  right  good  will  toward  Brandon  and  me,  but  she  kept 
track  of  our  plans,  which,  in  brief,  were  as  follows :  As  to 
her  costume,  we  would  substitute  long  trunks  and  jack 
boots  for  shoes  and  hose  and  as  to  the  doublet,  Mary 
laughed  and  blushingly  said  she  had  a  plan  which  she 
would  secretly  impart  to  Jane,  but  would  not  tell  us.  She 
whispered  it  to  Jane,  who,  as  serious  as  the  Lord  Chan 
cellor,  gave  judgment,  and  "thought  it  would  do."  We 
hoped  so,  but  were  full  of  doubts. 

This  is  all  tame  enough  to  write  and  read  about,  but  I 
can  tell  you  it  was  sufficiently  exciting  at  the  time. 
Three  of  us  at  least  were  playing  with  that  comical  old 
fellow,  Death,  and  he  gave  the  game  interest  and  point  to 
our  heart's  content. 

Through  the  thick  time-layers  of  all  these  years,  I  can 
still  see  the  group  as  we  sat  there,  haloed  by  a  hazy  cloud 
of  tear-mist.  The  figures  rise  before  my  eyes,  so  young 
and  fair  and  rich  in  life  and  yet  so  pathetic  in  their  trou 
bled  earnestness  that  a  great  flood  of  pity  wells  up  in  my 
heart  for  the  poor  young  souls,  so  danger-bound  and  suf 
fering,  and  withal  so  daring  and  so  recklessly  confident  in 
the  might  and  right  of  love,  and  the  omnipotence  of  youth. 
Ah  !  If  God  had  see*;  fit  in  his  infinite  wisdom  to  save  just 
one  treasure  from  the  wreck  of  Eden,  what  a  race  of 
thankful  hearts  this  earth  would  bear,  had  he  saved  us 
youth  alone  to  thereby  compensate  for  every  other  ill. 

As  to  the  elopement,  it  was  determined  that  Brandon 
should  leave  London  the  following  day  for  Bristol,  and 
make  all  arrangements  along  the  line.  He  would  carry 


208      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

with  him  two  bundles,  his  own  and  Mary's  clothing,  and 
leave  them  to  be  taken  up  when  they  should  go  a-ship- 
board.  Eight  horses  would  be  procured ;  four  to  be  left 
as  a  relay  at  an  inn  between  Berkeley  Castle  and  Bristol, 
and  four  to  be  kept  at  the  rendezvous  some  two  leagues  the 
other  side  of  Berkeley  for  the  use  of  Brandon,  Mary  and 
the  two  men  from  Bristol  who  were  to  act  as  an  escort  on 
the  eventful  night.  There  was  one  disagreeable  little  feature 
that  we  could  not  provide  against  nor  entirely  eliminate. 
It  was  the  fact  that  Jane  and  I  would  be  suspected  as  ac 
complices  before  the  fact  of  Mary's  elopement;  and,  as 
you  know,  to  assist  in  the  abduction  of  a  princess  is  trea 
son — for  which  there  is  but  one  remedy.  I  thought  I  had 
a  plan  to  keep  ourselves  safe  if  I  could  only  stifle  for  the 
once  Jane's  troublesome  and  vigorous  tendency  to  preach 
the  truth  to  all  people,  upon  all  subjects  and  at  all  times 
and  places.  She  promised  to  tell  the  story  I  would  drill 
into  her,  but  I  knew  the  truth  would  seep  out  in  a  thou 
sand  ways.  She  could  no  more  hold  it  than  a  sieve  can 
hold  water.  We  were  playing  for  great  stakes,  which,  if 
I  do  say  it,  none  but  the  bravest  hearts,  bold  and  daring 
as  the  truest  knights  of  chivalry,  would  think  of  trying  for. 
Nothing  less  than  the  running  away  with  the  first  princess 
of  the  first  blood  royal  of  the  world.  Think  of  it !  It  ap 
palls  me  even  now.  Discovery  meant  death  to  one  of  us 
surely — Brandon ;  possibly  to  two  others — Jane  and  me ; 
certainly,  if  Jane's  truthfulness  should  become  unmanage 
able,  as  it  was  so  apt  to  do. 

After  we  had  settled  everything  we  could  think  of,  the 
girls  took  their  leave ;  Mary  slyly  kissing  Brandon  at  the 
door.  I  tried  to  induce  Jane  to  follow  her  lady's  example, 
but  she  was  as  cool  and  distant  as  the  new  moon. 

I  saw  Jane  again  that  night  and  told  her  in  plain  terms 


TO  MAKE  A  MAN  OF  HER  209 

what  I  thought  of  her  treatment  of  me.  I  told  her  it  was 
selfish  and  unkind  to  take  advantage  of  my  love  for  her 
and  treat  me  so  cruelly.  I  told  her  that  if  she  had  one  drop 
of  generous  blood  she  would  tell  me  of  her  love,  if  she  had 
any,  or  let  me  know  it  in  some  way ;  and  if  she  cared  noth 
ing  for  me  she  was  equally  bound  to  be  honest  and  tell  me 
plainly,  so  that  I  would  not  waste  my  time  and  energy  in 
a  hopeless  cause.  I  thought  it  rather  clever  in  me  to  force 
her  into  a  position  where  her  refusal  to  tell  me  that  she  did 
not  care  for  me,  would  drive  her  to  a  half  avowal.  Of 
course,  I  had  little  fear  of  the  former,  or  perhaps,  I  should 
not  have  been  so  anxious  to  precipitate  the  issue. 

She  did  not  answer  me  directly,  but  said:  "From  the 
way  you  looked  at  Mary  to-day,  I  was  led  to  think  you 
cared  little  for  any  other  girl's  opinion." 

"Ah!  Miss  Jane!"  cried  I  joyfully;  "I  have  you  at 
last;  you  are  jealous." 

"I  give  you  to  understand,  sir,  that  your  vanity  has  led 
you  into  a  great  mistake." 

"As  to  your  caring  for  me,  or  your  jealousy?  Which?" 
I  asked  seriously.  Adroit,  wasn't  that? 

"As  to  the  jealousy,  Edwin.  There,  now ;  I  think  that 
is  saying  a  good  deal.  Too  much,"  she  said  pleadingly ; 
but  I  got  something  more  before  she  left,  even  if  it  was 
against  her  will ;  something  that  made  it  almost  impossi 
ble  for  me  to  hold  my  feet  to  the  ground. 

Jane  pouted,  gave  me  a  sharp  little  slap  and  then  ran 
away,  but  at  the  door  she  turned  and  threw  back  a  rare 
smile  that  was  priceless  to  me ;  for  it  told  me  she  was  not 
angry ;  and  furthermore  shed  an  illuminating  ray  upon  a 
lact  which  I  was  blind  not  to  have  seen  long  before ;  that 
is,  that  Jane  was  one  of  those  girls  who  must  be  captured 
^i  et  armis 

14 


210      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

Some  women  can  not  be  captured  at  all ;  they  must  give 
themselves ;  of  this  class  pre-eminently  was  Mary.  Others 
again  will  meet  you  half  way  and  kindly  lend  a  helping 
hand ;  while  some,  like  Jane,  are  always  on  the  run,  and 
are  captured  only  by  pursuit.  They  are  usually  well 
worth  the  trouble  though,  and  make  docile  captives.  After 
that  smile  from  the  door  I  felt  that  Jane  was  mine;  all 
I  had  to  do  was  to  keep  off  outside  enemies,  charge  upon 
her  defenses  when  the  times  were  ripe  and  accept  nothing 
short  of  her  own  sweet  self  as  ransom. 

The  next  day  Brandon  paid  his  respects  to  the  king  and 
queen,  made  his  adieus  to  his  friends  and  rode  off  alone  to 
Bristol.  You  may  be  sure  the  king  showed  no  signs  of 
undue  grief  at  his  departure. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  HAWKING  PARTY 

A  few  days  after  Brandon's  departure,  Mary,  with  the 
king's  consent,  organized  a  small  party  to  go  over  to 
Windsor  for  a  few  weeks  during  the  warm  weather. 

There  were  ten  or  twelve  of  us,  including  two  chaper 
ons,  the  old  Earl  of  Hertford  and  the  dowager  Duchess 
of  Kent.  Henry  might  as  well  have  sent  along  a  pair  of 
spaniels  to  act  as  chaperons — it  would  have  taken  an 
army  to  guard  Mary  alone — and  to  tell  you  the  truth  our 
old  chaperons  needed  watching  more  than  any  of  us.  It 
was  scandalous.  Each  of  them  had  a  touch  of  the  gout, 
and  when  they  made  wry  faces  it  was  a  standing  inquiry 
among  us  whether  they  were  leering  at  each  other  or  felt 
a  twinge — whether  it  was  their  feet  or  their  hearts,  that 
troubled  them. 

Mary  led  them  a  pretty  life  at  all  times,  even  at  home 
in  the  palace,  and  I  know  they  would  rather  have  gone  off 
with  a  pack  of  imps  than  with  us.  The  inducement  was 
that  it  gave  them  better  opportunities  to  be  together — an 
arrangement  connived  at  by  the  queen,  I  think — and  they 
were  satisfied.  The  earl  had  a  wife,  but  he  fancied  the 
old  dowager  and  she  fancied  him,  and  probably  the  wrife 
fancied  somebody  else,  so  they  were  all  happy.  It  greatly 
amused  the  young  people,  you  may  be  sure,  and  Mary 
said,  probably  without  telling  the  exact  truth,  that  every 
night  she  prayed  God  to  pity  and  forgive  their  ugliness. 
One  day  the  princess  said  she  was  becoming  alarmed; 

(211) 


212       WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

their  ugliness  was  so  intense  she  feared  it  might  be  con 
tagious  and  spread.  Then,  with  a  most  comical  serious 
ness,  she  added: 

"Mon  Dieu!  Sir  Edwin,  what  if  I  should  catch  it? 
Master  Charles  would  not  take  me." 

"No  danger  of  that  my  lady ;  he  is  too  devoted  to  see 
anything  but  beauty  in  you,  no  matter  how  much  you 
might  change." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?  He  says  so  little  about  it 
that  sometimes  I  almost  doubt." 

Therein  she  spoke  the  secret  of  Brandon's  success 
with  her,  at  least  in  the  beginning ;  for  there  is  wonderful 
potency  in  the  stimulus  of  a  healthy  little  doubt. 

We  had  a  delightful  canter  over  to  Windsor,  I  riding 
with  Mary  most  of  the  way.  I  was  not  averse  to  this  ar 
rangement,  as  I  not  only  relished  Mary's  mirth  and  joy- 
ousness,  which  was  at  its  height,  but  hoped  I  might  give 
my  little  Lady  Jane  a  twinge  or  two  of  jealousy  perchance 
to  fertilize  her  sentiments  toward  me. 

Mary  talked,  and  laughed,  and  sang,  for  her  soul  was  a 
fountain  of  gladness  that  bubbled  up  the  instant  pressure 
was  removed.  She  spoke  of  little  but  our  last  trip  over 
this  same  road,  and,  as  we  passed  objects  on  the  way,  told 
me  of  what  Brandon  had  said  at  this  place  and  that,  She 
laughed  and  dimpled  exquisitely  in  relating  how  she  had 
deliberately  made  opportunities  for  him  to  flatter  her, 
until,  at  last,  he  smiled  in  her  face  and  told  her  she  war 
the  most  beautiful  creature  living,  but  that  "after  all, 
'beauty  was  as  beauty  did !' J: 

"That  made  me  angry,"  said  she.  "I  pouted  for  a 
while,  and,  two  or  three  times,  was  on  the  point  of  dis 
missing  him,  but  thought  better  of  it  and  asked  him  plainly 


A  HAWKING  PARTY  213 

wherein  I  did  so  much  amiss.  Then  what  do  you  think 
the  impudent  fellow  said?" 

"I  can  not  guess." 

"'He  said :  'Oh,  there  is  so  much  it  would  take  a  life 
time  to  tell  it.' 

"This  made  me  furious,  but  I  could  not  answer,  and  a 
moment  later  he  said :  'Nevertheless  I  should  be  only  too 
glad  to  undertake  the  task/ 

"The  thought  never  occurred  to  either  of  us  then  that 
he  would  be  taken  at  his  word.  Bold  ?  I  should  think  he 
was ;  I  never  saw  anything  like  it !  I  have  not  told  you  a 
tenth  part  of  what  he  said  to  me  that  day ;  he  said  anything 
he  wished,  and  it  seemed  that  I  could  neither  stop  him  nor 
retaliate.  Half  the  time  I  was  angry  and  half  the  time 
amused,  but  by  the  time  we  reached  Windsor  there  never 
was  a  girl  more  hopelessly  and  desperately  in  love  than 
Mary  Tudor."  And  she  laughed  as  if  it  were  a  huge  joke 
on  Mary. 

She  continued :  "That  day  settled  matters  with  me  for 
all  time.  I  don't  know  how  he  did  it.  Yes  I  do  . . .  . " 
and  she  launched  forth  into  an  account  of  Brandon's  per 
fections,  which  I  found  somewhat  dull,  and  so  would  you. 

We  remained  a  day  or  two  at  Windsor,  and  then,  over 
the  objections  of  our  chaperons,  moved  on  to  Berkeley 
Castle,  where  Margaret  of  Scotland  was  spending  the 
summer. 

We  had  another  beautiful  ride  up  the  dear  old  Thames 
to  Berkeley,  but  Mary  had  grown  serious  and  sawT  none 
of  it. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  appointed  day,  the  princess  sug 
gested  a  hawking  party,  and  we  set  out  in  the  direction  of 
the  rendezvous.  Our  party  consisted  of  myself,  three 
other  gentlemen  and  three  ladies  besides  Mary,  Jane  did 


214      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

not  go ;  I  was  afraid  to  trust  her.  She  wept,  and,  with 
difficulty,  forced  herself  to  say  something  about  a  head 
ache,  but  the  rest  of  the  inmates  of  the  castle  of  course  had 
no  thought  that  possibly  they  were  taking  their  last  look 
upon  Mary  Tudor. 

Think  who  this  girl  was  we  were  running  away  with ! 
What  reckless  fools  we  were  not  to  have  seen  the  utter 
hopelessness,  certain  failure,  and  deadly  peril  of  our  act ; 
treason  black  as  Plutonian  midnight.  But  Providence 
seems  to  have  an  especial  care  for  fools,  while  wise  men 
are  left  to  care  for  themselves,  and  it  does  look  as  if  safety 
lies  in  folly. 

We  rode  on  and  on,  and  although  I  took  two  occasions, 
in  the  presence  of  others,  to  urge  Mary  to  return,  owing 
to  the  approach  of  night  and  threatened  rain,  she  took  her 
own  head,  as  everybody  knew  she  always  would,  and  con 
tinued  the  hunt. 

Just  before  dark,  as  we  neared  the  rendezvous,  Mary 
and  I  managed  to  ride  ahead  of  the  party  quite  a  distance. 
At  last  we  saw  a  heron  rise,  and  the  princess  uncapped 
her  hawk. 

"This  is  my  chance,"  she  said;  "I  will  run  away  from 
you  now  and  lose  myself ;  keep  them  off  my  track  for  five 
minutes  and  I  shall  be  safe.  Good-bye,  Edwin ;  you  and 
Jane  are  the  only  persons  I  regret  to  leave.  I  love  you 
as  my  brother  and  sister.  When  we  are  settled  in  New 
Spain  we  will  have  you  both  come  to  us.  Now,  Edwin, 
I  shall  tell  you  something:  don't  let  Jane  put  you  off 
any  longer.  She  loves  you ;  she  told  me  so.  There !  Good 
bye,  my  friend ;  kiss  her  a  thousand  times  for  me."  And 
she  flew  her  bird  and  galloped  after  it  at  headlong  speed. 

As  I  saw  the  beautiful  young  form  receding  from  me, 
perhaps  forever,  the  tears  stood  in  mv  eyes,  while  T 


A  HAWKING  PARTY  215 

thought  of  the  strong  heart  that  so  unfalteringly  braved 
such  dangers  and  was  so  loyal  to  itself  and  daring  for  its 
love.  She  had  shown  a  little  feverish  excitement  for  a 
day  or  two,  but  it  was  the  fever  of  anticipation,  not  of 
fear  or  hesitancy. 

Soon  the  princess  was  out  of  sight,  and  I  waited  for  the 
others  to  overtake  me.  When  they  came  up  I  was  greeted 
in  chorus :  "Where  is  the  princess?"  I  said  she  had  gone 
off  with  her  hawk,  and  had  left  me  to  bring  them  after  her. 
I  held  them  talking  while  I  could,  and  when  we  started  to 
follow  took  up  the  wrong  scent.  A  short  ride  made  this 
apparent,  when  I  came  in  for  my  full  share  of  abuse  and 
ridicule,  for  I  had  led  them  against  their  judgment.  I 
was  credited  with  being  a  blockhead,  when  in  fact  they 
were  the  dupes. 

We  rode  hurriedly  back  to  the  point  of  Mary's  depart 
ure  and  wound  our  horns  lustily,  but  my  object  had  been 
accomplished,  and  I  knew  that  within  twenty  minutes  from 
the  time  I  last  saw  her,  she  would  be  with  Brandon,  on 
the  road  to  Bristol,  gaining  on  any  pursuit  we  could  make 
at  the  rate  of  three  miles  for  two.  We  scoured  the  for 
est  far  and  near,  but  of  course  found  no  trace,  After  a 
time  rain  set  in  and  one  of  the  gentlemen  escorted  the 
ladies  home,  while  three  of  us  remained  to  prowl  about 
the  woods  and  roads  all  night  in  a  soaking  drizzle.  The 
task  was  tiresome  enough  for  me,  as  it  lacked  motive; 
and  when  we  rode  into  Berkeley  Castle  next  day,  a  sorrier 
set  of  bedraggled,  rain-stained,  mud-covered  knights  you 
never  saw.  You  may  know  the  castle  was  wild  with  ex 
citement.  There  were  all  sorts  of  conjectures,  but  soon 
we  unanimously  concluded  it  had  been  the  work  of  high 
waymen,  of  whom  the  country  was  full,  and  by  whom  the 
princess  had  certainly  been  abducted* 


210      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

The  chaperons  forgot  their  gout  and  each  other,  and 
Jane,  who  was  the  most  affected  of  all,  had  a  genuine  ex 
cuse  for  giving  vent  to  her  grief  and  went  to  bed — by  far 
the  safest  place  for  her. 

What  was  to  be  done?  First  we  sent  a  message  to  the 
king,  who  would  probably  have  us  all  flayed  alive — a  fear 
in  which  the  chaperons  shared  to  the  fullest  extent.  Next, 
an  armed  party  rode  back  to  look  again  for  Mary,  and,  if 
possible,  rescue  her. 

The  fact  that  I  had  been  out  the  entire  night  before, 
together  with  the  small  repute  in  which  I  was  held  for 
deeds  of  arms,  excused  me  from  taking  part  in  this  boot 
less  errand,  so  again  I  profited  by  the  small  esteem  in 
which  I  was  held.  I  say  I  profited,  for  I  stayed  at  the 
castle  with  Jane,  hoping  to  find  my  opportunity  in  the 
absence  of  everybody  else.  All  the  ladies  but  Jane  had 
ridden  out,  and  the  knights  who  had  been  with  me  scour 
ing  the  forest  were  sleeping,  since  they  had  not  my  in 
centive  to  remain  awake.  They  had  no  message  to  deliver ; 
no  duty  to  perform  for  an  absent  friend.  A  thousand! 
Only  think  of  it !  I  wished  it  had  been  a  million,  and 
so  faithful  was  I  to  my  trust  that  I  swore  in  my  soul  I 
would  deliver  them,  every  one. 

And  Jane  loved  me!  No  more  walking  on  the  hard, 
prosaic  earth  now ;  from  this  time  forth  I  would  fly ;  that 
was  the  only  sensible  method  of  locomotion.  Mary  had 
said:  "She  told  me  so."  Could  it  really  be  true?  You 
will  at  once  see  what  an  advantage  this  bit  of  information 
was  to  me. 

I  hoped  that  Jane  would  wish  to  see  me  to  talk  over 
Mary's  escape — so  I  sent  word  to  her  that  I  was  wraiting, 
and  she  quickly  enough  recovered  her  health  and  came 
down.  I  suggested  that  we  walk  out  to  a  secluded  little 


A  HAWKING  PARTY  217 

summer-house  by  the  river,  and  Jane  was  willing.    Ah! 
my  opportunity  was  here  at  last. 

She  found  her  bonnet,  and  out  we  went.  What  an  en 
chanting  walk  was  that,  and  how  rich  is  a  man  who  has 
laid  up  such  treasures  of  memory  to  grow  the  sweeter  as 
he  feeds  upon  them.  A  rich  memory  is  better  than  hope, 
for  it  lasts  after  fruition,  and  serves  us  at  a  time  when 
hope  has  failed  and  fruition  is  but — a  memory.  Ah !  how 
we  cherish  it  in  our  hearts,  and  how  it  comes  at  our  beck 
and  call  to  thrill  us  through  and  through  and  make  us 
thank  God  that  we  have  lived,  and  wonder  in  our  hearts 
why  he  has  given  poor  undeserving  us  so  much. 

After  we  arrived  at  the  summer-house,  Jane  listened, 
half  the  time  in  tears,  while  I  told  her  all  about  Mary's 
flight. 

Shall  I  ever  forget  that  summer  day?  A  sweet  briar 
entwined  our  enchanted  bower,  and,  when  I  catch  its  scent 
even  now,  time-vaulting  memory  carries  me  back,  making 
years  seem  as  days,  and  I  see  it  all  as  I  saw  the  light  of 
noon  that  moment — and  all  was  Jane.  The  softly  lapping 
river,  as  it  gently  sought  the  sea,  sang  in  soothing  cadence 
of  naught  but  Jane ;  the  south  wind  from  his  flowery  home 
breathed  zephyr-voiced  her  name  again,  and,  as  it  stirred 
the  rustling  leaves  on  bush  and  tree,  they  wliispered  back 
the  same  sweet  strain ;  and  every  fairy  voice  found  its  echo 
in  my  soul ;  for  there  it  was  as  'twas  with  me,  "Jane ! 
Jane !  Jane !"  I  have  heard  men  say  they  would  not  live 
their  lives  over  and  take  its  meager  grains  of  happiness, 
in  such  infinite  disproportion  to  its  grief  and  pain,  but, 
as  for  me,  thanks  to  one  woman,  I  almost  have  the  min 
utes  numbered  all  along  the  way,  and  know  them  one  from 
the  other ;  and  when  I  sit  alone  to  dream,  and  live  again 
some  portion  of  the  happy  past,  I  hardly  know  what  time 


218      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

t>>  choose  or  incident  to  dwell  upon,  my  life  is  so  much 
crowded  with  them  all.  Would  I  live  again  my  life? 
Aye,  every  moment  except  perhaps  when  Jane  was  ill — 
and  therein  even  was  happiness,  for  what  a  joy  there  was 
at  her  recovery.  I  do  not  even  regret  that  it  is  closing ;  it 
would  be  ungrateful ;  I  have  had  so  much  more  than  my 
share  that  I  simply  fall  upon  my  knees  and  thank  God  for 
what  He  has  given. 

Jane's  whole  attitude  toward  me  was  changed,  and  she 
seemed  to  cling  to  me  in  a  shy,  unconscious  manner,  that 
was  sweet  beyond  the  naming,  as  the  one  solace  for  all  her 
grief. 

After  I  had  answered  all  her  questions,  and  had  told  her 
over  and  over  again  every  detail  of  Mary's  flight,  and  had 
assured  her  that  the  princess  was,  at  that  hour,  breasting 
the  waves  with  Brandon,  on  their  high  road  to  paradise,  I 
thought  it  time  to  start  myself  in  the  same  direction  and 
to  say  a  word  in  my  own  behalf.  So  I  spoke  very  freely 
and  told  Jane  what  I  felt  and  what  I  wanted. 

"Oh !  Sir  Edwin,"  she  responded,  "let  us  not  think  of 
anything  but  my  mistress.  Think  of  the  trouble  she  is  in." 

"No !  no !  Jane ;  Lady  Mary  is  out  of  her  trouble  by 
now,  and  is  as  happy  as  a  lark,  you  may  be  sure.  Has  she 
not  won  everything  her  heart  longed  for?  Then  let  us 
make  our  own  paradise,  since  wre  have  helped  them  make 
theirs.  You  have  it,  Jane,  just  within  your  lips;  speak 
the  word  and  it  will  change  everything — if  you  love  me, 
and  I  know  you  do." 

Jane's  head  was  bowed  and  she  remained  silent. 

Then  I  told  her  of  Lady  Mary's  message,  and  begged,  if 
she  would  not  speak  in  words  what  I  so  longed  to  hear, 
she  would  at  least  tell  it  by  allowing  me  to  deliver  only  one 
little  thousandth  part  of  the  message  Mary  had  sent ;  but 


.    .    .     I  DELIVERED  THE  REST  OF 
MARY'S  MESSAGE." 


A  HAWKING  PARTY  219 

she  drew  away  and  said  she  would  return  to  the  castle  if  I 
continued  to  behave  in  that  manner.  I  begged  hard,  and 
tried  to  argue  the  point,  but  logic  seems  to  lose  its  force  in 
such  a  situation,  and  all  I  said  availed  nothing.  Jane  was 
obdurate,  and  was  for  going  back  at  once.  Her  persist 
ency  was  beginning  to  look  like  obstinacy,  and  I  soon 
grew  so  angry  that  I  asked  no  permission,  but  delivered 
Mary's  message,  or  a  good  part  of  it,  at  least,  whether  she 
would  or  no,  and  then  sat  back  and  asked  her  what  she 
was  going  to  do  about  it. 

Poor  little  Jane  thought  she  was  undone  for  life.  She 
sat  there  half  pouting,  half  weeping,  and  said  she  could  do 
nothing  about  it;  that  she  was  alone  now,  and  if  I,  her 
only  friend,  would  treat  her  that  way,  she  did  not  know 
where  to  look. 

''Where  to  look  ?"  I  demanded.  "Look  here,  Jane,  here ; 
you  might  as  well  understand,  first  as  last,  that  I  will  not 
be  trifled  with  longer,  and  that  I  intend  to  continue  treat 
ing  you  that  way  as  long  as  we  both  live.  I  have  deter 
mined  not  to  permit  you  to  behave  as  you  have  for  so  long ; 
for  I  know  you  love  me.  You  have  half  told  me  so  a 
dozen  times,  and  even  your  half  words  are  whole  truths ; 
there  is  not  a  fraction  of  a  lie  in  you.  Besides,  Mary  told 
me  that  you  told  her  so." 

"She  did  not  tell  you  that?" 

"Yes  ;  upon  my  knightly  honor."  Of  course  there  was 
but  one  answer  to  this — tears.  I  then  brought  the  battle 
to  close  quarters  at  once,  and,  with  my  arm  uninterrupted 
at  my  lady's  waist,  asked: 

"Did  you  not  tell  her  so  ?  I  know  you  will  speak  noth 
ing  but  the  truth.  Did  you  not  tell  her?  Answer  me, 
Jane."  The  fair  head  nodded  as  she  whispered  between 
the  hands  that  covered  her  face : 


220      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

"Yes ;  I — I — d-did ;"  and  I — well,  I  delivered  the  rest 
of  Mary's  message,  and  that,  too,  without  a  protest  from 
Jane. 

Truthfulness  is  a  pretty  good  thing  after  all. 

So  Jane  was  conquered  at  last,  and  I  heaved  a  sigh  as 
the  battle  ended,  for  it  had  been  a  long,  hard  struggle. 

I  asked  Jane  when  we  should  be  married,  but  she  said 
she  could  not  think  of  that  now — not  until  she  knew  that 
Mary  was  safe;  but  she  would  promise  to  be  my  wife 
sometime.  I  told  her  that  her  word  wras  as  good  as  gold 
to  me;  and  so  it  was  and  always  has  been;  as  good  as 
fine  gold  thrice  refined.  I  then  told  her  I  would  bother 
her  no  more  about  it,  now  that  I  was  sure  of  her,  but  when 
she  was  ready  she  should  tell  me  of  her  own  accord  and 
make  my  happiness  complete.  She  said  she  would,  and  I 
told  her  I  believed  her  and  was  satisfied.  I  did,  however, 
suggest  that  the  intervening  time  would  be  worse  than 
wasted — happiness  thrown  right  in  the  face  of  Providence, 
as  it  were — and  begged  her  not  to  waste  any  more  than 
necessary ;  to  which  she  seriously  and  honestly  answered 
that  she  would  not. 

We  went  back  to  the  castle,  and  as  we  parted  Jane  said 
timidly :  "I  am  glad  I  told  you,  Edwin ;  glad  it  is  over." 

She  had  evidently  dreaded  it;  but — I  _was glad, JQQ ; 
right  glad.  Then  I  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  ELOPEMENT 

Whatever  the  king  might  think,  I  knew  Lord  Wolsey 
would  quickly  enough  guess  the  truth  when  he  heard  that 
the  princess  was  missing,  and  would  have  a  party  in  pur 
suit.  The  runaways,  however,  would  have  at  least  twenty- 
four  hours  the  start,  and  a  ship  leaves  no  tracks.  When 
Mary  left  me  she  was  perhaps  two-thirds  of  a  league  from 
the  rendezvous,  and  night  was  rapidly  falling.  As  her  road 
lay  through  a  dense  forest  all  the  way,  she  would  have  a 
dark,  lonely  ride  of  a  few  minutes,  and  I  was  somewhat 
uneasy  for  that  part  of  the  journey.  It  had  been  agreed 
that  if  everything  was  all  right  at  the  rendezvous,  Mary 
should  turn  loose  her  horse,  which  had  always  been  sta 
bled  at  Berkeley  Castle  and  would  quickly  trot  home.  To 
further  emphasize  her  safety  a  thread  would  be  tied  in  his 
forelock.  The  horse  took  his  time  in  returning,  and  did 
not  arrive  until  the  second  morning  after  the  flight,  but 
when  he  came  I  found  the  thread,  and,  unobserved,  re 
moved  it.  I  quickly  took  it  to  Jane,  who  has  it  yet,  and 
cherishes  it  for  the  mute  message  of  comfort  it  brought 
her.  In  case  the  horse  should  not  return,  I  was  to  find  a 
token  in  a  hollow  tree  near  the  place  of  meeting ;  but  the 
thread  in  the  forelock  told  us  our  friends  had  found  each 
other. 

\Vhen  we  left  the  castle,  Mary  wore  under  her  riding 
habit  a  suit  of  man's  attire,  and,  as  we  rode  along,  she 
would  shrug  her  shoulders  and  laugh  as  if  it  were  a  huge 

(221) 


222      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWEK 

joke ;  and  by  the  most  comical  little  pantomime,  call  my 
attention  to  her  unusual  bulk.  So,  when  she  found  Bran 
don,  the  only  change  necessary  to  make  a  man  of  her  was 
to  throw  off  the  riding  habit  and  pull  on  the  jack-boots 
and  slouch  hat,  both  of  which  Brandon  had  with  him. 

They  wasted  no  time  you  may  be  sure,  and  were  soon 
under  way.  In  a  few  minutes  they  picked  up  the  two 
Bristol  men  who  were  to  accompany  them,  and,  when 
night  had  fairly  fallen,  left  the  by-paths  and  took  to  the 
main  road  leading  from  London  to  Bath  and  Bristol.  The 
road  was  a  fair  one ;  that  is,  it  was  well  defined  and  there 
was  no  danger  of  losing  it ;  in  fact,  there  was  more  dan 
ger  of  losing  one's  self  in  its  fathomless  mud-holes  and 
quagmires.  Brandon  had  recently  passed  over  it  twice, 
and  had  made  mental  note  of  the  worst  places,  so  he  hoped 
to  avoid  them. 

Soon  the  rain  began  to  fall  in  a  soaking  drizzle;  then 
the  lamps  of  twilight  went  out,  and  even  the  shadows  of 
the  night  were  lost  among  themselves  in  blinding  dark 
ness.  It  was  one  of  those  black  nights  fit  for  witch  travel 
ing  ;  and,  no  doubt,  every  witch  in  England  was  out  brew 
ing  mischief.  The  horses'  hoofs  sucked  and  splashed  in 
the  mud  with  a  sound  that  Mary  thought  might  be  heard 
at  Land's  End ;  and  the  hoot  of  an  owl,  now  and  then  dis 
turbed  by  a  witch,  would  strike  upon  her  ear  with  a  vol 
ume  of  sound  infinitely  disproportionate  to  the  size  of  any 
owl  she  had  ever  seen  or  dreamed  of  before. 

Brandon  wore  our  cushion,  the  great  cloak,  and  had  pro 
vided  a  like  one  of  suitable  proportions  for  the  princess. 
This  came  in  good  play,  as  her  fine  gentleman's  attire 
would  be  but  poor  stuff  to  turn  the  water.  The  wind, 
•which  had  arisen  with  just  enough  force  to  set  up  a 
dismal  wail,  gave  the  rain  a  horizontal  slant  and  drove 


'.    .    .    ONE  OF  THOSE 
BLACK  NIGHTS  FIT 
FOR  WITCH  TRAVELING.' 


THE  ELOPEMENT  223 

it  in  at  every  opening.  The  flaps  of  the  comfortable 
great  cloak  blew  back  from  Mary's  knees,  and  she  felt 
many  a  chilling  drop  through  her  fine  new  silk  trunks  that 
made  her  wish  for  buckram  in  their  place.  Soon  the  water 
began  to  trickle  down  her  legs  and  find  lodgment  in  the 
jack-boots,  and  as  the  rain  and  wind  came  in  tremulous  lit 
tle  whirrs,  she  felt  wretched  enough — she  who  had  always 
been  so  well  sheltered  from  every  blast.  Now  and  then 
mud  and  water  would  fly  up  into  her  face — striking  usu 
ally  in  the  eyes  or  mouth — and  then  again  her  horse  would 
stumble  and  almost  throw  her  over  his  head,  as  he  sunk, 
knee  deep,  into  some  unexpected  hole.  All  of  this,  with 
the  thousand  and  one  noises  that  broke  the  still  worse 
silence  of  the  inky  night  soon  began  to  work  upon  her 
nerves  and  make  her  fearful.  The  road  was  full  of  dan 
gers  aside  from  stumbling  horses  and  broken  necks,  for 
many  were  the  stories  of  murder  and  robbery  committed 
along  the  route  they  were  traveling.  It  is  true  they  had 
two  stout  men,  and  all  were  armed,  yet  they  might  easily 
come  upon  a  party  too  strong  for  them ;  and  no  one  could 
tell  what  might  happen,  thought  the  princess.  There  was 
that  pitchy  darkness  through  which  she  could  hardly  see 
her  horse's  head — a  thing  of  itself  that  seemed  to  have  in 
finite  powers  for  mischief,  and  which  no  amount  of  argu 
ment  ever  induced  any  normally  constituted  woman  to  be 
lieve  was  the  mere  negative  absence  of  light,  and  not  a 
terrible  entity  potent  for  all  sorts  of  mischief.  Then  that 
wailing  howl  that  rose  and  fell  betimes;  no  wind  ever 
made  such  a  noise  she  felt  sure.  There  were  those  shining 
white  gleams  which  came  from  the  little  pools  of  water 
on  the  road,  looking  like  dead  men's  faces  upturned  and 
pale ;  perhaps  they  were  water  and  perhaps  they  were  not. 
Mary  had  all  confidence  in  Brandon,  but  that  very  fact 


224      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

operated  against  her.  Having  that  confidence  and  trust  in 
him,  she  felt  no  need  to  waste  her  own  energy  in  being 
brave;  so  she  relaxed  completely,  and  had  the  feminine 
satisfaction  of  allowing  herself  to  be  thoroughly  fright 
ened. 

Is  it  any  wonder  Mary's  gallant  but  womanly  spirit 
sunk  low  in  the  face  of  all  those  terrors?  She  held  out 
bravely,  however,  and  an  occasional  clasp  from  Brandon's 
hand  under  cover  of  the  darkness  comforted  her.  When  all 
those  terrors  would  not  suggest  even  a  thought  of  turn 
ing  back,  you  may  judge  of  the  character  of  this  girl  and 
her  motive. 

They  traveled  on,  galloping  when  they  could,  trotting 
when  they  could  not  gallop,  and  walking  when  they  must. 

At  one  time  they  thought  they  heard  the  sound  of  fol 
lowing  horses,  and  hastened  on  as  fast  as  they  dare  go, 
until,  stopping  to  Jisten  and  hearing  nothing,  they  con 
cluded  they  were  wrong.  About  eleven  o'clock,  however, 
right  out  of  the  black  bank  of  night  in  front  of  them  they 
heard,  in  earnest,  the  sucking  splash  of  horses'  hoofs.  In 
an  instant  the  sound  ceased  and  the  silence  was  worse  than 
the  noise.  The  cry  "Hollo!"  brought  them  all  to  a  stand, 
and  Mary  thought  her  time  had  come. 

Both  sides  shouted,  ''Who  comes  there?"  to  which  there 
was  a  simultaneous  and  eager  answer,  "A.  friend,"  and 
each  party  passed  its  own  way,  only  too  glad  to  be  rid  of 
the  other.  Mary's  sigh  of  relief  could  be  heard  above 
even  the  wind  and  the  owls,  and  her  heart  beat  as  if  it  had 
a  task  to  finish  within  a  certain  time. 

After  this  they  rode  on  as  rapidly  as  they  dared,  and 
about  midnight  arrived  at  the  inn  where  the  relay  of  horses 
was  awaiting  them. 

The  inn  was  a  rambling  old  thatched-roofed  structure; 


THE  ELOPEMENT  225 

half  mud,  half  wood,  and  all  filth.  There  are  many  inns 
in  England  that  are  tidy  enough,  but  this  one  was  a  little 
off  the  main  road — selected  for  that  reason — and  the  un- 
cleanness  was  not  the  least  of  Mary's  trials  that  hard  night. 
She  had  not  tasted  food  since  noon,  and  felt  the  keen  hun 
ger  natural  to  youth  and  health  such  as  hers,  after  twelve 
hours  of  fasting  and  eight  hours  of  riding.  Her  appetite 
soon  overcame  her  repugnance,  and  she  ate,  with  a  zest 
that  was  new  to  her,  the  humblest  fare  that  had  ever 
passed  her  lips.  One  often  misses  the  zest  of  life's  joys  by 
having  too  much  of  them,  and  must  want  a  thing  before  it 
can  be  appreciated. 

A  hard  ride  of  five  hours  brought  our  travelers  to  Bath, 
which  place  they  rode  around  just  as  the  sun  began  to  gild 
the  tile  roofs  and  steeples,  and  another  hour  brought  them 
to  Bristol. 

The  ship  was  to  sail  at  sunrise,  but  as  the  wind  had  died 
out  with  the  night,  there  was  no  danger  of  its  sailing  with 
out  them.  Soon  the  gates  opened,  and  the  party  rode  to 
the  Bow  and  String,  where  Brandon  had  left  their  chests. 
The  men  were  then  paid  off ;  quick  sale  was  made  of  the 
horses;  breakfast  was  served,  and  they  started  for  the 
wharf,  with  their  chests  following  in  the  hands  of  four 
porters. 

A  boat  soon  took  them  aboard  the  Royal  Hind,  and 
now  it  looked  as  if  their  daring  scheme,  so  full  of  improb 
ability  as  to  seem  impossible,  had  really  come  to  a  success 
ful  issue. 

From  the  beginning,  I  think,  it  had  never  occurred  to 
Mar>T  to  doubt  the  result.  There  had  never  been  with  her 
even  a  suggestion  of  possible  failure,  unless  it  was  that 
evening  in  our  room,  when,  prompted  by  her  startled  mod 
esty,  she  had  said  she  could  not  bear  for  us  to  see  her  in 
II 


226      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

the  trunk  hose.  Now  that  fruition  seemed  about  to  crown 
her  hopes  she  was  happy  to  her  heart's  core;  and  when 
once  to  herself  wept  for  sheer  joy.  It  is  little  wonder  she 
was  happy.  She  was  leaving  behind  no  one  whom  she 
loved  excepting  Jane,  and  perhaps,  me.  No  father  or 
mother;  only  a  sister  whom  she  barely  knew,  and  a 
brother  whose  treatment  of  her  had  turned  her  heart 
against  him.  She  was  also  fleeing  with  the  one  man  in  all 
the  world  for  her,  and  from  a  marriage  that  was  literally 
worse  than  death. 

Brandon,  on  the  other  hand,  had  always  had  more  de- 
,     sire  than  hope.     The  many  chances  against  success  had 
forced  upon  him  a  haunting  sense  of  certain  failure,  which, 
one  would  think,  should  have  left  him  now.     It  did  not, 
howrever,  and  even  when  on  shipboard,  with  a  score  of  men 
at  the  windlass  ready  to  heave  anchor  at  the  first  breath  of 
wind,  it  was  as  strong  as  when  Mary  first  proposed  their 
flight,  sitting  in  the  window  on  his  great  cloak.    Such  were 
I  their  opposite  positions.     Both  were  without  doubt,  but 
(  with  this  difference;    Mary  had  never  doubted  success; 
j  Brandon  never  doubted  failure.    He  had  a  keen  analytical 
\  faculty  that  gave  him  truthfully  the  chances   for  and 
;  against,  and,  in  this  case,  they  were  overwhelmingly  un- 
\  favorable.    Such  hope  as  he  had  been  able  to  distill  out  of 
I  his  desire  was  sadly  dampened  by  an  ever-present  pre 
monition  of  failure,  which  he  could  not  entirely  throw  off. 
Too  keen  an  insight  for  the  truth  often  stands  in  a  man's 
way,  and  too  clear  a  view  of  an  overwhelming  obstacle 
is  apt  to  paralyze  effort.    Hope  must  always  be  behind  a 
hearty  endeavor. 

Our  travelers  were,  of  course,  greatly  in  need  of  rest ; 
so  Mary  went  to  her  room,  and  Brandon  took  a  berth  in 
the  cabin  set  apart  for  the  gentlemen 


THE  ELOPEMENT  227 

They  had  both  paid  for  their  passage,  although  they  had 
enlisted  and  were  part  of  the  ship's  company.  They  were 
not  expected  to  do  sailor's  work,  but  would  be  called  upon 
in  case  of  righting  to  do  their  part  at  that.  Mary  was 
probably  as  good  a  fighter,  in  her  own  line,  as  one  could 
find  in  a  long  journey,  but  how  she  was  to  do  her  part 
with  sword  and  buckler  Brandon  did  not  know.  That, 
however,  was  a  bridge  to  be  crossed  when  they  should 
come  to  it. 

They  had  gone  aboard  about  seven  o'clock,  and  Bran 
don  hoped  the  ship  would  be  well  down  Bristol  channel 
before  he  should  leave  his  berth.  But  the  wind  that  had 
filled  Mary's  jack-boots  with  rain  and  had  howled  so  dis 
mally  all  night  long  would  not  stir,  now  that  it  was 
wanted.  Noon  came,  yet  no  wind,  and  the  sun  shone  as 
placidly  as  if  Captain  Charles  Brandon  were  not  fuming 
with  impatience  on  the  poop  of  the  Royal  Hind.  Three 
o'clock  and  no  wind.  The  captain  said  it  would  come  with 
night,  but  sundown  was  almost  at  hand  and  no  wind  yet. 
Brandon  knew  this  meant  failure  if  it  held  a  little  longer, 
for  he  was  certain  the  king,  with  Wolsey's  help,  would 
long  since  have  guessed  the  truth. 

Brandon  had  not  seen  the  princess  since  morning,  and 
the  delicacy  he  felt  about  going  to  her  cabin  made  the  situ 
ation  somewhat  difficult.  After  putting  it  off  from  hour  to 
hour  in  hope  that  she  would  appear  of  her  own  accord, 
he  at  last  knocked  at  her  door,  and,  of  course,  found  the 
lady  in  trouble. 

The  thought  of  the  princess  going  on  deck  caused  a 
sinking  at  his  heart  every  time  it  came,  as  he  felt  that  it 
was  almost  impossible  to  conceal  her  identity.  He  had 
not  seen  her  in  her  new  male  attire,  for  when  she  threw 
off  her  riding  habit  on  meeting  him  the  night  before,  he 


228       WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

had  intentionally  busied  himself  about  the  horses,  and  saw 
her  only  after  the  great  cloak  covered  her  as  a  gown.  He 
felt  that  however  well  her  garments  might  conceal  her 
form,  no  man  on  earth  ever  had  such  beauty  in  his  face  as 
her  transcendent  eyes,  rose-tinted  cheeks,  and  coral  lips, 
with  their  cluster  of  dimples ;  and  his  heart  sunk  at  the 
prospect.  She  might  hold  out  for  a  while  with  a  straight 
face,  but  when  the  smiles  should  come — it  were  just  as 
well  to  hang  a  placard  about  her  neck :  "This  is  a  wom 
an."  The  tell-tale  dimples  would  be  worse  than  Jane  for 
outspoken,  untimely  truthfulness  and  trouble-provoking 
candor. 

Upon  entering,  Brandon  found  Mary  wrestling  with  the 
problem  of  her  complicated  male  attire ;  the  most  beautiful 
picture  of  puzzled  distress  imaginable.  The  port  was 
open  and  showed  her  rosy  as  the  morn  when  she  looked 
up  at  him.  The  jack-boots  were  in  a  corner,  and  her  little 
feet  seemed  to  put  up  a  protest  all  their  own,  against  going 
into  them,  that  ought  to  have  softened  every  peg.  She 
looked  up  at  Brandon  with  a  half-hearted  smile,  and  then 
threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  sobbed  like  the  child 
that  she  was. 

"Do  you  regret  coming,  Lady  Mary?"  asked  Brandon, 
who,  now  that  she  was  alone  with  him,  felt  that  he  must 
take  no  advantage  of  the  fact  to  be  familiar. 

"No!  no!  not  for  one  moment;  I  am  glad — only  too 
glad.  But  why  do  you  call  me  'Lady'  ?  You  used  to  call 
me  'Mary.'  " 

"I  don't  know ;  perhaps  because  you  are  alone." 

"Ah !  that  is  good  of  you ;  but  you  need  not  be  quite  so 
respectful." 

The  matter  was  settled  by  mute  but  satisfactory  arbitra 
tion,  and  Brandon  continued :  "You  must  make  yourself 


THE  ELOPEMENT  229 

ready  to  go  on  deck.    It  will  be  hard,  but  it  must  be  done." 

He  helped  her  with  the  heavy  jack-boots  and  handed 
her  the  rain-stained  slouch  hat  which  she  put  on,  and  stood 
a  complete  man  ready  for  the  deck — that  is,  as  complete 
as  could  be  evolved  from  her  utter  femininity. 

When  Brandon  looked  her  over,  all  hope  went  out  of 
him.  It  seemed  that  every  change  of  dress  only  added  to 
her  bewitching  beauty  by  showing  it  in  a  new  phase. 

"It  will  never  do ;  there  is  no  disguising  you.  What  is 
it  that  despite  everything  shows  so  unmistakably  fem 
inine  ?  What  shall  we  do  ?  I  have  it ;  you  shall  remain 
here  under  the  pretense  of  illness  until  we  are  well  at  sea, 
and  then  I  will  tell  the  captain  all.  It  is  too  bad;  and  yet 
I  would  not  have  you  one  whit  less  a  woman  for  all  the 
world.  A  man  loves  a  woman  who  is  so  thoroughly  wom 
anly  that  nothing  can  hide  it." 

Mary  was  pleased  at  his  flatter}',  but  disappointed  at  the 
failure  in  herself.  She  had  thought  that  surely  these 
garments  would  make  a  man  of  her  in  which  the  keenest 
eye  could  not  detect  a  flaw. 

They  were  discussing  the  matter  when  a  knock  came  at 
the  door  with  the  cry,  "All  hands  on  deck  for  inspection." 
Inspection!  Jesu!  Mary  would  not  safely  endure  it  a 
minute.  Brandon  left  her  at  once  and  went  to  the  captain. 

"My  lord  is  ill,  and  begs  to  be  excused  from  deck  in 
spection,"  he  said. 

Bradhurst,  a  surly  old  half  pirate  of  the  saltiest  pattern, 
answered:  "111?  Then  he  had  better  go  ashore  as  soon 
as  possible.  I  will  refund  his  money.  We  can  not  make 
a  hospital  out  of  the  ship.  If  his  lordship  is  too  ill  to  stand 
inspection,  see  that  he  goes  ashore  at  once." 

This  last  was  addressed  to  one  of  the  ship's  officers,  who 


230      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

answered  with  the  usual  "Aye,  aye,  sir,"  and  started  for 
Mary's  cabin. 

That  was  worse  than  ever;  and  Brandon  quickly  said 
he  would  have  his  lordship  up  at  once.  He  then  returned 
to  Mary,  and  after  buckling  on  her  sword  and  belt  they 
went  on  deck  and  climbed  up  the  poop  ladder  to  take  their 
places  with  those  entitled  to  stand  aft. 

Brandon  has  often  told  me  since  that  it  was  as  much  as 
he  could  do  to  keep  back  the  tears  when  he  saw  Mary's 
wonderful  effort  to  appear  manly.  It  was  both  comical 
and  pathetic.  She  was  a  princess  to  whom  all  the  world 
bowed  down,  yet  that  did  not  help  her  here.  After  all 
she  was  only  a  girl,  timid  and  fearful,  following  at  Bran 
don's  heels;  frightened  lest  she  should  get  out  of  arm's 
reach  of  him  among  those  rough  men,  and  longing  with 
all  her  heart  to  take  his  hand  for  moral  as  well  as  physical 
support.  It  must  have  been  both  laughable  and  pathetic 
in  the  extreme.  That  miserable  sword  persisted  in  trip 
ping  her,  and  the  jack-boots,  so  much  too  large,  evinced 
an  alarming  tendency  to  slip  off  with  every  step.  How  in 
sane  we  all  were  not  to  have  foreseen  this  from  the  very 
beginning.  It  must  have  been  a  unique  figure  she  pre 
sented  climbing  up  the  steps  at  Brandon's  heels,  jack-boots 
and  all.  So  unique  was  it  that  the  sailors  working  in  the 
ship's  waist  stopped  their  tasks  to  stare  in  wonderment, 
and  the  gentlemen  on  the  poop  made  no  effort  to  hide  their 
amusement.  Old  Bradhurst  stepped  up  to  her. 

"I  hope  your  lordship  is  feeling  better ;"  and  then,  sur 
veying  her  from  head  to  foot,  with  a  broad  grin  on  his 
features,  "I  declare,  you  look  the  picture  of  health,  if  I 
ever  saw  it.  How  old  are  you  ?" 

Mary  quickly  responded,  "Fourteen  years." 

"Fourteen."  returned  Bradhurst:  "well.  T  don't  think 


THESE  FELLOWS    .     . 

ABOUT  MARY 

TO  INSPECT   HER." 


.    GATHERED 


THE  ELOPEMEN'l  231 

you  will  shed  much  blood.  You  look  more  like  a  deuced 
handsome  girl  than  any  man  I  ever  saw.''  At  this  the 
men  all  laughed,  and  were  very  impertinent  in  the  free  and 
easy  manner  of  such  gentry,  most  of  whom  were  profes 
sional  adventurers,  with  every  finer  sense  dulled  and  de 
based  by  years  of  vice. 

These  fellows,  half  of  them  tipsy,  now  gathered  about 
Mary  to  inspect  her  personally,  each  on  his  own  account. 
Their  looks  and  conduct  were  very  disconcerting,  but 
they  did  nothing  insulting  until  one  fellow  gave  her  a 
slap  on  the  back,  accompanying  it  by  an  indecent  remark. 
Brandon  tried  to  pay  no  attention  to  them,  but  this  was 
too  much,  so  he  lifted  his  arm  and  knocked  the  fellow  off 
the  poop  into  the  waist.  The  man  was  back  in  a  moment, 
and  swords  were  soon  drawn  and  clicking  away  at  a  great 
rate.  The  contest  was  brief,  however,  as  the  fellow  was 
no  sort  of  a  match  for  Brandon,  who,  with  his  old  trick, 
quickly  twisted  his  adversary's  sword  out  of  his  grasp,  and 
with  a  flash  of  his  own  blade  flung  it  into  the  sea.  The 
other  men  were  now  talking  together  at  a  little  distance 
in  whispers,  and  in  a  moment  one  drunken  brute  shouted: 
"It  is  no  man ;  it  is  a  woman ;  let  us  see  more  of  her." 

Before  Brandon  could  interfere,  the  fellow  had  unbuck 
led  Mary's  doublet  at  the  throat,  and  with  a  jerk,  had  torn 
it  half  off,  carrying  away  the  sleeve  and  exposing  Mary's 
shoulder,  almost  throwing  her  to  the  deck. 

He  waved  his  trophy  on  high,  but  his  triumph  was 
short-lived,  for  almost  instantly  it  fell  to  the  deck,  and 
with  it  the  offending  hand  severed  at  the  wrist  by  Bran 
don's  sword.  Three  or  four  friends  of  the  wounded  man 
rushed  upon  Brandon;  whereupon  Mary  screamed  and 
began  to  weep,  which  of  course  told  the  whole  story. 

A  great  laugh  went  up,  and  instantly  a  general  fight 


232      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

began.  Several  of  the  gentlemen,  seeing  Brandon  at 
tacked  by  such  odds,  took  up  his  defense,  and  within 
twenty  seconds  all  were  on  one  side  or  the  other,  every 
mother's  son  of  them  fighting  away  like  mad. 

You  see  how  quickly  and  completely  one  woman  with 
out  the  slightest  act  on  her  part,  except  a  modest  effort  to 
be  let  alone,  had  set  the  whole  company  by  the  ears,  cut 
ting  and  slashing  away  at  each  other  like  very  devils.  The 
sex  must  generate  mischief  in  some  unknown  manner, 
and  throw  it  off,  as  the  sun  throws  off  its  heat.  However, 
Jane  is  an  exception  to  that  rule — if  it  is  a  rule. 

The  officers  soon  put  a  stop  to  this  lively  little  fight, 
and  took  Brandon  and  Mary,  who  was  weeping  as  any 
right-minded  woman  would,  down  into  the  cabin  for  con 
sultation. 

With  a  great  oath  Bradhurst  exclaimed:  "It  is  plain 
enough  that  you  have  brought  a  girl  on  board  under  false 
colors,  and  you  may  as  well  make  ready  to  put  her  ashore. 
You  see  what  she  has  already  done — a  hand  lost  to  one 
man  and  wounds  for  twenty  others — and  she  was  on  deck 
less  than  five  minutes.  Heart  of  God !  At  that  rate  she 
would  have  the  ship  at  the  bottom  of  Davy  Jones's  locker 
before  we  could  sail  half  down  the  channel." 

"It  was  not  my  fault,"  sobbed  Mary,  her  eyes  flashing 
fire ;  "I  did  nothing ;  all  I  wanted  was  to  be  left  alone ; 
but  those  brutes  of  men — you  shall  pay  for  this ;  remem 
ber  what  I  say.  Did  you  expect  Captain  Brandon  to  stand 
back  and  not  defend  me,  when  that  wretch  was  tearing  my 
garments  off?" 

"Captain  Brandon,  did  you  say  ?"  asked  Bradhurst,  with 
his  hat  off  instantly.  "Yes,"  answered  that  individual. 
"I  shipped  under  an  assumed  name,  for  various  reasons, 


THE  ELOPEMENT  233 

and  desire  not  to  be  known.  You  will  do  well  to  keep  my 
secret." 

"Do  I  understand  that  you  are  Master  Charles  Bran 
don,  the  king's  friend?"  asked  Bradhurst. 

"I  am,"  was  the  answer. 

"Then,  sir,  I  must  ask  your  pardon  for  the  way  you 
have  been  treated.  We,  of  course,  could  not  know  it,  but 
a  man  must  expect  trouble  when  he  attaches  himself  to  a 
woman."  It  is  a  wonder  the  flashes  from  Mary's  eyes  did 
not  strike  the  old  sea-dog  dead.  He,  however,  did  not 
see  them,  and  wrent  on :  "We  are  more  than  anxious  that 
so  valiant  knight  as  Sir  Charles  Brandon  should  go  with 
us,  and  hope  your  reception  will  not  drive  you  back,  but  as 
to  the  lady — you  see  already  the  result  of  her  presence, 
and  much  as  we  want  you,  we  can  not  take  her.  Aside 
from  the  general  trouble  which  a  woman  takes  with  her 
everywhere" — Mary  would  not  even  look  at  the  creature 
— "on  shipboard  there  is  another  and  greater  objection. 
It  is  said,  you  know,  among  sailors,  that  a  woman  on 
board  draws  bad  luck  to  certain  sorts  of  ships,  and  every 
sailor  would  desert,  before  we  could  weigh  anchor,  if  it 
were  known  this  lady  was  to  go  with  us.  Should  they 
find  it  out  in  mid-ocean,  a  mutiny  would  be  sure  to  follow, 
and  God  only  knows  what  would  happen.  For  her  sake, 
if  no  other  reason,  take  her  ashore  at  once." 

Brandon  saw  only  too  plainly  the  truth  that  he  had 
really  seen  all  the  time,  but  to  which  he  had  shut  his  eyes, 
and  throwing  Mary's  cloak  over  her  shoulders,  prepared 
to  go  ashore.  As  they  went  over  the  side  and  pulled  off, 
a  great  shout  went  up  from  the  ship  far  more  derisive 
than  cheering,  and  the  men  at  the  oars  looked  at  each 
other  askance  and  smiled.  What  a  predicament  for  a  prin 
cess!  Brandon  cursed  himself  for  having  been  such  a 


234      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FUJWKK 

knave  and  fool  as  to  allow  this  to  happen.  He  had  known 
the  danger  all  the  time,  and  his  act  could  not  be  charge 
able  to  ignorance  or  a  failure  to  see  the  probable  conse 
quences.  Temptation,  and  selfish  desire,  had  given  him 
temerity  in  place  of  judgment.  He  had  attempted  what 
none  but  an  insane  man  would  have  tried,  without  even 
the  pitiable  excuse  of  insanity.  He  had  seen  it  all  only 
too  clearly  from  the  very  beginning,  and  he  had  deliber 
ately  and  with  open  eyes  brought  disgrace,  ruin,  and  death 
— unless  he  could  escape — upon  himself,  and  utter  humili 
ation  to  her  whom  his  love  should  have  prompted  him  to 
save  at  all  cost.  If  Mary  could  only  have  disguised  herself 
to  look  like  a  man  they  might  have  succeeded,  but  that 
little  "if"  was  larger  than  Paul's  church,  and  blocked  the 
road  as  completely  as  if  it  had  been  a  word  of  twenty 
syllables. 

When  the  princess  stepped  ashore  it  seemed  to  her  as  if 
the  heart  in  her  breast  was  a  different  and  separate  organ 
from  the  one  she  had  carried  aboard. 

As  the  boat  put  off  again  for  the  ship,  its  crew  gave  a 
cheer  coupled  with  some  vile  advice,  for  which  Brandon 
would  gladly  have  run  them  through,  each  and  every  one. 
He  had  to  swallow  his  chagrin  and  anger,  and  really 
blamed  no  one  but  himself,  though  it  was  torture  to  him 
that  this  girl  should  be  subjected  to  such  insults,  and  he 
powerless  to  avenge  them.  The  news  had  spread  from 
the  wharf  like  wildfire,  and  on  their  way  back  to  the  Bo\v 
and  String,  there  came  from  small  boys  and  hidden  voices 
such  exclamations  as :  "Look  at  the  woman  in  man's 
clothing;"  "Isn't  he  a  beautiful  man?"  "Look  at  him 
blush ;"  and  others  too  coarse  to  be  repeated.  Imagine  the 
humiliating  situation,  from  which  there  was  no  escape. 

At  last  they  reached  the  inn,  whither  their  chests  soon 


THE  ELOPEMENT  235 

followed  them,  sent  by  Bradhurst,  together  with  their  pas 
sage  money,  which  he  very  honestly  refunded. 

Mary  soon  donned  her  woman's  attire,  of  which  she  had 
a  supply  in  her  chest,  and  at  least  felt  more  comfortable 
without  the  jack-boots.  She  had  made  her  toilet  alone  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life,  having  no  maid  to  help  her,  and 
wept  as  she  dressed,  for  this  disappointment  was  like 
plucking  the  very  heart  out  of  her.  Her  hope  had  been  so 
high  that  the  fall  was  all  the  harder.  Nay,  even  more ; 
hope  had  become  fruition  to  her  when  they  were  once 
a-shipboard,  and  failure  right  at  the  door  of  success  made 
it  doubly  hard  to  bear.  It  crushed  her,  and,  where  before 
had  been  hope  and  confidence,  was  nothing  now  but  de 
spair.  Like  all  people  with  a  great  capacity  for  elation, 
when  she  sunk  she  touched  the  bottom.  Alas  !  Mary,  the 
unconquerable,  was  down  at  last. 

This  failure  meant  so  much  to  her;  it  meant  that  she 
would  never  be  Brandon's  wife,  but  would  go  to  France  to 
endure  the  dreaded  old  Frenchman.  At  that  thought  a 
recoil  came.  Her  spirit  asserted  itself,  and  she  stamped 
her  foot  and  swore  upon  her  soul  it  should  never  be; 
never!  never!  so  long  as  she  had  strength  to  fight  or 
voice  to  cry,  "No."  The  thought  of  this  marriage  and  of 
the  loss  of  Brandon  was  painful  enough,  but  there  came 
another,  entirely  new  to  her  and  infinitely  worse. 

Hastily  arranging  her  dress,  she  went  in  search  of  Bran 
don,  whom  she  quickly  found  and  took  to  her  room. 

After  closing  the  door  she  said:  "I  thought  I  had 
reached  the  pinnacle  of  disappointment  and  pain  when 
compelled  to  leave  the  ship,  for  it  meant  that  I  should  lose 
you  and  have  to  marry  Louis  of  France.  But  I  have  found 
that  there  is  still  a  possible  pain  more  poignant  than  either, 
and  I  can  not  bear  it ;  so  I  come  to  you — you  who  are  the 


236      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

great  cure  for  all  my  troubles.  Oh  !  that  I  could  lay  them 
here  all  my  life  long,"  and  she  put  her  head  upon  his 
breast,  forgetting  what  she  had  intended  to  say. 

"What  is  the  trouble,  Mary?" 

"Oh!  yes!  I  thought  of  that  marriage  and  of  losing 
you,  and  then,  oh!  Mary  Mother!  I  thought  of  some 
other  woman  having  you  to  herself.  I  could  see  her  with 
you,  and  I  was  jealous — I  think  they  call  it.  I  have  heard 
of  the  pangs  of  jealousy,  and  if  the  fear  of  a  rival  is  so 
great  what  would  the  reality  be  ?  It  would  kill  me ;  I 
could  not  endure  it.  I  can  not  endure  even  this,  and  I 
want  you  to  swear  that " 

Brandon  took  her  in  his  arms  as  she  began  to  weep. 

"I  will  gladly  swear  by  everything  I  hold  sacred  that 
no  other  woman  than  you  shall  ever  be  my  wife.  If  I 
can  not  have  you,  be  sure  you  have  spoiled  every  other 
woman  for  me.  There  is  but  one  in  all  the  world — but 
one.  I  can  at  least  save  you  that  pain." 

She  then  stood  on  tip-toes  to  lift  her  lips  to  him,  and 
said :  "I  give  you  the  same  promise.  How  you  must  have 
suffered  when  you  thought  I  was  to  wed  another." 

After  a  pause  she  went  on :  "But  it  might  have  been 
worse — that  is,  it  would  be  worse  if  you  should  marry 
some  other  woman ;  but  that  is  all  settled  now  and  I  feel 
easier.  Then  I  might  have  married  the  old  French  king, 
but  that,  too,  is  settled ;  and  we  can  endure  the  lesser  pain. 
It  always  helps  us  when  we  are  able  to  think  it  might 
have  been  worse." 

Her  unquestioning  faith  in  Brandon  was  beautiful,  and 
she  never  doubted  that  he  spoke  the  unalterable  truth 
when  he  said  he  would  never  marry  any  other  woman.  She 
had  faith  in  herself,  too,  and  was  confident  that  her  prom 
ise  to  marry  no  man  but  Brandon  ended  that  important 


THE  ELOPEMENT  237 

matter  likewise,  and  put  the  French  marriage  totally  out 
of  the  question  for  all  time  to  come. 

As  for  Brandon,  he  was  safe  enough  in  his  part  of  the 
contract.  He  knew  only  too  well  that  no  woman  could 
approach  Mary  in  her  inimitable  perfections,  and  had 
tested  his  love  closely  enough,  in  his  struggle  against  it, 
to  feel  that  it  had  taken  up  its  abode  in  his  heart  to  stay, 
whether  he  wanted  it  or  not.  He  knew  that  he  was  safe 
in  making  her  a  promise  which  he  was  powerless  to  break. 
All  this  he  fully  explained  to  Mary,  as  they  sat  looking  out 
the  window  at  the  dreary  rain  which  had  come  on  again 
with  the  gathering  gloom  of  night. 

Brandon  did  not  tell  her  that  his  faith  in  her  ultimate 
ability  to  keep  her  promise  was  as  small  as  it  was  great  in 
his  own.  Neither  did  he  dampen  her  spirits  by  telling  her 
that  there  was  a  reason,  outside  of  himself,  which  in  all 
probability  would  help  him  in  keeping  his  word,  and  save 
her  from  the  pangs  of  that  jealousy  she  so  much  feared ; 
namely,  that  he  would  most  certainly  wed  the  block  and  ax 
should  the  king  get  possession  of  him.  He  might  have 
escaped  from  England  in  the  Royal  Hind,  for  the  wind 
had  come  up  shortly  after  they  left  the  ship,  and  they 
could  see  the  sails  indistinctly  through  the  gloom  as  she 
got  under  way.  But  he  could  not  leave  Mary  alone,  and 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  take  her  back  to  London  and 
march  straight  into  the  jaws  of  death  with  her,  if  the 
king's  men  did  not  soon  come. 

He  knew  that  a  debt  to  folly  bears  no  grace,  and  \\~^ 
ready  with  his  principal  and  usance^ 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

TO  THE  TOWER 

Whether  or  not  Brandon  would  have  found  some  way 
to  deliver  the  princess  safely  home,  and  still  make  his  es 
cape,  I  can  not  say,  as  he  soon  had  no  choice  in  the  matter. 
At  midnight  a  body  of  yeomen  from  the  tower  took  posses 
sion  of  the  Bow  and  String,  and  carried  Brandon  off  to 
London  without  communication  with  Mary.  She  did  not 
know  of  his  arrest  until  next  morning,  when  she  was  in 
formed  that  she  was  to  follow  immediately,  and  her  heart 
was  nearly  broken. 

Here  again  was  trouble  for  Mary.  She  felt,  however, 
that  the  two  great  questions,  the  marriage  of  herself  to 
Louis,  and  Brandon  to  any  other  person,  were,  as  she 
called  it,  "settled" ;  and  was  almost  content  to  endure  this 
as  a  mere  putting  off  of  her  desires — a  meddlesome  and 
impertinent  interference  of  the  Fates  who  would  soon 
learn  with  whom  they  were  dealing  and  amend  their  con 
duct. 

She  did  not  understand  the  consequences  for  Brandon, 
nor  that  the  Fates  would  have  to  change  their  purpose 
very  quickly  or  something  would  happen  worse,  even,  than 
his  marriage  to  another  woman. 

On  the  second  morning  after  leaving  Bristol,  Brandon 
reached  London,  and,  as  he  expected,  was  sent  to  the 
Tower.  The  next  evening  Lady  Mary  arrived  and  was 
taken  down  to  Greenwich. 

The  girl's  fair  name  was,  of  course,  lost — but,  fortu- 

(238) 


AT  MIDNIGHT  A  BODY  OF  YEOMEN 
.    .    .    TOOK  POSSESSION  OF 
THE  BOV  AND  STRING." 


TO  THE  TOWER  239 

nately,  that  goes  for  little  with  a  princess — since  no  one 
would  believe  that  Brandon  had  protected  her  against  him 
self  as  valiantly  and  honorably  as  he  would  against  an 
other.  The  princess  being  much  more  unsophisticated 
than  the  courtiers  were  ready  to  believe,  never  thought  of 
saying  anything  to  establish  her  innocence  or  virtue,  and 
her  silence  was  put  down  to  shame  and  taken  as  evidence 
against  her. 

Jane  met  Mary  at  Windsor,  and,  of  course,  there  was  a 
great  flood  of  tears. 

Upon  arriving  at  the  palace,  the  girls  were  left  to  them 
selves  upon  Mary 's  promise  not  to  leave  her  room  ;  but,  by 
the  next  afternoon,  she,  having  been  unable  to  learn  any 
thing  concerning  Brandon,  broke  her  parole  and  went  out 
to  seek  the  king. 

It  never  occurred  to  Mary  that  Brandon  might  suffer 
death  for  attempting  to  run  away  with  her.  She  knew 
only  too  well  that  she  alone  was  to  blame,  not  only  for 
that,  but  for  all  that  had  taken  place  between  them,  and 
never  for  one  moment  thought  that  he  might  be  punished 
for  her  fault ;  even  admitting  there  was  fault  in  any  one, 
which  she  was  by  no  means  ready  to  do. 

The  trouble  in  her  mind,  growing  out  of  a  lack  of  news 
from  Brandon,  was  of  a  general  nature,  and  the  possibility 
of  his  death  had  no  place  in  her  thoughts.  Nevertheless, 
for  the  second  time,  Brandon  had  been  condemned  to  die 
for  her  sake.  The  king's  seal  had  stamped  the  warrant 
for  the  execution,  and  the  headsman  had  sharpened  his  ax 
and  could  almost  count  the  golden  fee  for  his  butchery. 

Mary  found  the  king  playing  cards  with  de  Longueville. 
There  was  a  roomful  of  courtiers,  ana  as  she  entered  she 
was  the  target  for  every  eye;  but  she  was  on  familiar 
ground  now.  and  did  not  care  for  the  glances  nor  the 


240      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

observers,  most  of  whom  she  despised.  She  was  the  prin 
cess  again  and  full  of  self-confidence ;  so  she  went  straight 
to  the  object  of  her  visit,  the  king.  She  had  not  made  up 
her  mind  just  what  to  say  first,  there  was  so  much ;  but 
Henry  saved  her  the  trouble.  He,  of  course,  was  in  a 
great  rage,  and  denounced  Mary's  conduct  as  unnatural 
and  treasonable ;  the  latter,  in  Henry's  mind,  being  a  crime 
many  times  greater  than  the  breaking  of  all  the  command 
ments  put  together,  in  one  fell,  composite  act.  All  this 
the  king  had  communicated  to  Mary  by  the  lips  of  Wolse} 
the  evening  before,  and  Mary  had  received  it  with  a  silent 
scorn  that  would  have  withered  any  one  but  the  worthy 
bishop  of  York.  As  I  said,  when  Mary  approached  her 
brother,  he  saved  her  the  trouble  of  deciding  where  tc 
begin  by  speaking  first  himself,  and  his  words  were  of  a 
part  with  his  nature — violent,  cruel  and  vulgar.  He  abused 
her  and  called  her  all  the  vile  names  in  his  ample  vocabu 
lary  of  Billingsgate.  The  queen  was  present,  and  aided 
and  abetted  with  a  word  now  and  then,  until  Henry,  witli 
her  help,  at  last  succeeded  in  working  himself  into  a  tow 
ering  passion,  and  wound  up  by  calling  Mary  a  vile  wan 
ton  in  plainer  terms  than  I  like  to  write.  This  aroused  al' 
the  antagonism  in  the  girl,  and  there  was  plenty  of  it.  Sht 
feared  Henry  no  more  than  she  feared  me.  Her  eyes 
flashed  a  fire  that  made  even  the  king  draw  back  as  she 
exclaimed:  "You  give  me  that  name  and  expect  me  tc 
remember  you  are  my  brother?  There  are  words  whicl: 
make  a  mother  hate  her  first-born,  and  that  is  one.  Tel! 
me  what  I  have  done  to  deserve  it?  I  expected  to  heai 
of  ingratitude  and  disobedience  and  all  that,  but  supposed 
you  had  at  least  some  traces  of  brotherly  feeling — for  ties 
of  blood  are  hard  to  break — even  if  you  have  of  late  losl 
all  semblance  to  man  or  king." 


TO  THE  TOWER  241 

This  was  hitting  Henry  hard,  for  it  was  beginning  to  be 
the  talk  in  every  mouth  that  he  was  leaving  all  the  affairs 
of  state  to  Wolsey  and  spending  his  time  in  puerile  amuse 
ment.  "The  toward  hope  which  at  all  poyntes  appeared 
in  the  younge  Kynge"  was  beginning  to  look,  after  all, 
like  nothing  more  than  the  old-time,  royal  cold  fire,  made 
to  consume  but  not  to  warm  the  nation. 

Henry  looked  at  Alary  with  the  stare  of  a  baited  bull. 

"If  running  off  in  male  attire,  and  stopping  at  inns  and 
boarding  ships  with  a  common  captain  of  the  guard 
doesn't  justify  my  accusation  and  stamp  you  what  you  are, 
I  do  not  know  what  would.'' 

Even  Henry  saw  her  innocence  in  her  genuine  surprise. 
She  was  silent  for  a  little  time,  and  I,  standing  close  to 
her,  could  plainly  see  that  this  phase  of  the  question  had 
never  before  presented  itself. 

She  hung  her  head  for  a  moment  and  then  spoke :  "It 
may  be  true,  as  you  say,  that  what  I  have  done  will  lose 
me  my  fair  name — I  had  never  thought  of  it  in  that  light — 
but  it  is  also  true  that  I  am  innocent  and  have  done  no 
wrong.  You  may  not  believe  me,  but  you  can  ask  Master 
Brandon" — here  the  king  crave  a  great  laugh,  and  of 
course  the  courtiers  joined  in. 

"It  is  all  very  well  for  you  to  laugh,  but  Master  Bran 
don  would  not  tell  you  a  lie  for  your  crown —  '  Gods !  I 
could  have  fallen  on  my  knees  to  a  faith  like  that — "What 
I  tell  you  is  true.  I  trusted  him  so  completely  that  the 
fear  of  dishonor  at  his  hands  never  suggested  itself  to  me. 
I  knew  he  would  care  for  and  respect  me.  I  trusted  him, 
and  my  trust  was  not  misplaced.  Of  how  many  of  these 
creatures  who  laugh  when  the  king  laughs  could  I  say  as 
much?"  And  Henry  knew  she  spoke  the  truth,  both  con 
cerning  herself  and  the  courtiers. 
is 


242  WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

With  downcast  eyes  she  continued:  "I  suppose,  after 
all,  you  are  partly  right  in  regard  to  me ;  for  it  was  his 
honor  that  saved  me,  not  my  own ;  and  if  I  am  not  what 
you  called  me  I  have  Master  Brandon  to  thank — not 
myself." 

"We  will  thank  him  publicly  on  Tower  Hill,  day  after 
to-morrow,  at  noon,"  said  the  king,  with  his  accustomed 
delicacy,  breaking  the  news  of  Brandon's  sentence  as 
abruptly  as  possible. 

With  a  look  of  terror  in  her  eyes,  Mary  screamed: 

"What !  Charles  Brandon Tower  Hill? You  are 

going  to  kill  him  ?" 

"I  think  we  will,"  responded  Henry;  "it  usually  has 
that  effect,  to  separate  the  head  from  the  body  and  quarter 
the  remains  to  decorate  the  four  gates.  We  will  take  you 
up  to  London  in  a  day  or  two  and  let  you  see  his  beautiful 
head  on  the  bridge." 

"Behead — quarter — bridge!  Lord  Jesu!"  She  could 
not  grasp  the  thought ;  she  tried  to  speak,  but  the  words 
would  not  come.  In  a  moment  she  became  more  coherent, 
and  the  words  rolled  from  her  lips,  as  a  mighty  flood  tide 
pours  back  through  the  arches  of  London  Bridge. 

"You  shall  not  kill  him ;  he  is  blameless ;  you  do  not 
know.  Drive  these  gawking  fools  out  of  the  room,  and  I 
will  tell  you  all."  The  king  ordered  the  room  cleared  of 
everybody  but  Wolsey,  Jane  and  myself,  who  remained 
at  Mary's  request.  When  all  were  gone  the  princess  con 
tinued  :  "Brother,  this  man  is  in  no  way  to  blame ;  it  is 
all  my  fault — my  fault  that  he  loves  me ;  my  fault  that  he 
tried  to  run  away  to  New  Spain  with  me.  It  may  be  that 
I  have  done  wrong  and  that  my  conduct  has  been  unmaid- 
enly,  but  I  could  not  help  it.  From  the  first  time  I  ever 
saw  him  in  the  lists  with  you  at  Windsor  there  was  a 


1O  THE  TOWER  ^43 

gnawing  hunger  in  my  heart  beyond  my  control.  I  sup 
posed,  of  course,  that  day  he  would  contrive  some  way  to 
be  presented  to  me  .... " 

"You  did?" 

"Yes,  but  he  made  no  effort  at  all,  and  when  we  met 
!:o  treated  me  as  if  I  were  an  ordinary  girl." 

"He  did?" 

^V^-.   v 

J     V-^3» 

"'Horrible." 

Mary  was  too  intent  on  her  story  to  heed  the  sarcasm, 
and  continued:  "That  made  me  all  the  more  interested 
in  him  since  it  showed  that  he  was  different  from  the 
wretches  who  beset  you  and  me  with  their  flattery,  and 
I  soon  began  to  seek  him  on  every  occasion.  This  is  an 
immaidenly  history  I  am  giving,  I  know,  but  it  is  the  truth 
and  must  be  told.  I  was  satisfied  at  first  if  I  could  only 
be  in  the  same  room  with  him,  and  see  his  face,  and  hear 
his  voice.  The  very  air  he  breathed  was  like  an  elixir  for 
me.  I  made  every  excuse  to  have  him  near  me ;  I  asked 
him  to  my  parlor — you  know  about  that — and — and  did 
all  I  could  to  be  with  him.  At  first  he  was  gentle  and  kind, 
but  soon,  I  think,  he  sa\v  the  dawning  danger  in  both  our 
hearts,  as  I  too  saw  it,  and  he  avoided  me  in  every  way 
he  could,  knowing  the  trouble  it  held  for  us  both.  Oh ! 
he  was  the  wiser — and  to  think  to  what  I  have  brought 
him.  Brother,  let  me  die  for  him — I  who  alone  am  to 
blame ;  take  my  life  and  spare  him — spare  him  !  He  was 
the  wiser ;  but  I  doubt  if  all  the  wisdom  in  the  world  could 
have  saved  us.  He  almost  insulted  me  once  in  the  park — 
told  me  to  leave  him — when  it  hurt  him  more  than  me,  I 
am  now  sure ;  but  he  did  it  to  keep  matters  from  growing 
worse  between  us.  I  tried  to  remember  the  affront,  but 
could  not,  and  had  he  struck  me  I  believe  I  should  have 


244      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

gone  back  to  him  sooner  or  later.  Oh !  it  was  all  my  fault ; 
I  would  not  let  him  save  himself.  So  strong-  was  my  feel 
ing  that  I  could  bear  his  silence  no  longer,  and  one  day  I 
went  to  him  in  your  bed-chamber  ante-room  and  fairly 
thrust  myself  and  my  love  upon  him.  Then,  after  he  was 
liberated  from  Newgate,  I  could  not  induce  him  to  come 
to  me,  so  I  went  to  him  and  begged  for  his  love.  Then  I 
coaxed  him  into  taking  me  to  New  Spain,  and  would  listen 
to  no  excuse  and  hear  no  reason.  Now  lives  there  another 
man  who  would  have  taken  so  much  coaxing  ?" 

"No!  by  heaven!  your  majesty,"  said  Wolsey,  who 
really  had  a  kindly  feeling  for  Brandon  and  would  gladly 
save  his  life,  if,  by  so  doing,  he  would  not  interfere  with 
any  of  his  own  plans  and  interests.  Wolsey's  heart  was 
naturally  kind  when  it  cost  him  nothing,  and  much  has 
been  related  of  him,  which,  to  say  the  least,  tells  a  great 
deal  more  than  the  truth.  Ingratitude  always  recoils  upon 
the  ingrate,  and  Henry's  loss  was  greater  than  Wolsey's 
when  Wolsey  fell. 

Henry  really  liked,  or,  rather,  admired,  Brandon,  as  had 
often  been  shown,  but  his  nature  was  incapable  of  real 
affection.  The  highest  point  he  ever  reached  was  admira 
tion,  often  quite  extravagant  for  a  time,  but  usually  short 
lived,  as  naked  admiration  is  apt  to  be.  If  he  had  affection 
for  any  one  it  was  for  Mary.  He  could  not  but  see  the 
justice  of  his  sister's  position,  but  he  had  no  intention 
of  allowing  justice,  in  the  sense  of  right,  to  interfere  with 
justice  in  the  sense  of  the  king's  will. 

"You  have  been  playing  the  devil  at  a  great  rate,"  he 
said.  "You  have  disobeyed  your  brother  and  your  king ; 
have  disgraced  yourself ;  have  probably  made  trouble  be 
tween  us  and  France,  for  if  Louis  refuses  to  take  you  now 
J  will  cram  you  down  his  throat ;  and  by  your  own  story 


TO  THE  TOWER  245 

have  led  a  good  man  to  the  block.  Quite  a  budget  of  evils 
for  one  woman  to  open.  But  I  have  noticed  that  the  trou 
ble  a  woman  can  make  is  in  proportion  to  her  beauty,  and 
no  wonder  my  little  sister  has  made  so  much  disturbance. 
It  is  strange,  though,  that  he  should  so  affect  you. 
Master  Wolsey,  surely  there  has  been  witchery  here.  He 
must  have  used  it  abundantly  to  cast  such  a  spell  over  my 
sister."  Then  turning  to  the  princess:  "Was  it  at  any 
time  possible  for  him  to  have  given  you  a  love  powder ;  or 
did  he  ever  make  any  signs  or  passes  over  you  ?" 

"Oh,  no!  nothing  of  that  sort.  I  never  ate  or  drank 
anything  which  he  could  possibly  have  touched.  And  as 
to  signs  and  passes,  I  know  he  never  made  any.  Sir  Ed 
win,  you  were  always  present  when  I  was  with  him  until 
after  we  left  for  Bristol ;  did  you  ever  see  anything  of  the 
sort?" 

I  answered  "No,"  and  she  went  on.  "Besides,  I  do  not 
believe  much  in  signs  and  passes.  No  one  can  affect 
others  unless  he  can  induce  them  to  cat  or  drink  something 
in  which  he  has  placed  a  love  powder  or  potion.  Then 
again,  Master  Brandon  did  not  want  me  to  love  him,  and 
surely  would  not  have  used  such  a  method  to  gain  what  he 
could  have  had  freely  without  it." 

I  noticed  that  Henry's  mind  had  wandered  from  what 
Mary  was  saying,  and  that  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  me 
with  a  thoughtful,  half  vicious,  inquiring  stare  that  I  did 
not  like.  I  wondered  what  was  coming  next,  but  my  curi 
osity  was  more  than  satisfied  when  the  king  asked:  "So 
Caskoden  was  present  at  all  your  interviews  ?" 

Ah !  Holy  Mother !  I  knew  what  was  coming  now,  and 
actually  began  to  shrivel  with  fright.  The  king  contin 
ued  :  "I  suppose  he  helped  you  to  escape  ?" 

I  thought  my  day  had  come,  but  Mary's  wit  was  equal 


246      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

to  the  occasion.  With  an  expression  on  her  face  of  the 
most  dove-like  innocence,  she  quickly  said : 

"Oh !  no !  neither  he  nor  Jane  knew  anything  of  it.  We 
were  afraid  they  might  divulge." 

Shade  of  Sapphira! 

A  lie  is  a  pretty  good  thing,  too,  now  and  then,  and  the 
man  who  says  that  word  of  Mary's  was  not  a  blessed  lie, 
must  fight  me  with  lance,  battle-ax,  sword  and  dagger  till 
one  or  the  other  of  us  bites  the  dust  in  death,  be  he  great 
or  small. 

"I  am  glad  to  learn  that  you  knew  nothing  of  it,"  said 
Henry,  addressing  me;  and  I  was  glad,  too,  for  him  to 
learn  it,  you  may  be  sure. 

Then  spoke  Wolsey:  "If  your  majesty  will  permit,  I 
would  say  that  I  quite  agree  with  you;  there  has  been 
witchery  here — witchery  of  the  most  potent  kind;  the 
witchery  of  lustrous  eyes,  of  fair  skin  and  rosy  lips ;  the 
witchery  of  all  that  is  sweet  and  intoxicating-  in  woman 
hood,  but  Master  Brandon  has  been  the  victim  of  this 
potent  spell,  not  the  user  of  it.  One  look  upon  your  sister 
standing  there,  and  I  know  your  majesty  will  agree  that 
Brandon  had  no  chance  against  her." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,"  returned  Henry. 

Then  spoke  Mary,  all  unconscious  of  her  girlish  ego 
tism  :  "Of  course  he  had  not.  Master  Brandon  could  not 
help  it."  Which  was  true  beyond  all  doubt. 

Henry  laughed  at  her  naivete,  and  Wolsey's  lips  wore  a 
smile,  as  he  plucked  the  king  by  the  sleeve  and  took  him 
over  to  the  window,  out  of  our  hearing. 

Mary  began  to  weep  and  show  signs  of  increasing  agita 
tion. 

After  a  short  whispered  conversation,  the  king  and 
Wolsey  came  back  and  the  former  said ;  "Sister,  if  I  prom- 


ro  THE  IOWER  247 

ise  to  give  Brandon  his  life,  will  you  consent  decently  and 
like  a  good  girl  to  marry  Louis  of  France  ?" 

Mary  almost  screamed,  "Yes,  yes;  gladly;  I  will  do 
anything  you  ask,"  and  fell  at  his  feet  hysterically  em 
bracing  his  knees. 

As  the  king-  stooped  and  lifted  her  to  her  feet,  he  kissed 
her,  saying:  "His  life  shall  be  spared,  my  sweet  sister/' 
After  this,  Henry  felt  that  he  had  done  a  wonderfully 
gracious  act  and  was  the  kindest-hearted  prince  in  all 
Christendom. 

Poor  Mary!  Two  mighty  kings  and  their  great  min 
isters  of  state  had  at  last  conquered  you  but  they  had  to 
strike  you  through  your  love — the  vulnerable  spot  in  every 
woman. 

Jane  and  I  led  Mary  away  through  a  side  door  and  the 
king  called  for  de  Longueville  to  finish  the  interrupted 
game  of  cards. 

Before  the  play  was  resumed  Wolsey  stepped  softly 
around  to  the  king  and  asked :  "Shall  I  affix  your  majes 
ty's  seal  to  Brandon's  pardon  ?" 

"Yes,  but  keep  him  in  the  Tower  until  Mary  is  off  for 
France." 

Wolsey  had  certainly  been  a 'friend  to  Brandon  in  time 
of  need,  but,  as  usual,  he  had  value  received  for  his  friend 
liness.  He  was  an  ardent  advocate  of  the  French  mar 
riage,  notwithstanding  the  fact  he  had  told  Mary  he  was 
not ;  having  no  doubt  been  bribed  thereto  by  the  French 
king. 

The  good  bishop  had,  with  the  help  of  de  Longueville, 
secretly  sent  Mary's  miniature  to  the  French  court  in  order 
that  it  might,  as  if  by  accident,  fall  into  the  hands  of  Louis, 
and  that  worthy's  little,  old,  shriveled  heart  began  to  flut 
ter,  just  as  if  there  could  be  kindled  in  it  a  genuine  flame. 


248      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

Louis  had  sent  to  de  Longueville,  who  was  then  in 
England,  for  confirmation  of  *  Mary's  beauty,  and  de 
Longueville  grew  so  eloquent  on  the  theme  that  his  French 
majesty  at  once  authorized  negotiations. 

As  reports  came  in  Louis  grew  more  and  more  impa 
tient.  This  did  not,  however,  stand  in  the  way  of  his 
driving  a  hard  bargain  in  the  matter  of  dower,  for,  "The 
Father  of  the  People"  had  the  characteristics  of  his  race, 
and  was  intensely  practical  as  well  as  inflammable.  They 
I  never  lose  sight  of  the  dot — but  I  do  not  find  fault. 

Louis  little  knew  what  thorns  this  lovely  rose  had  under 
neath  her  velvet  leaves,  and  what  a  veritable  tartar  she 
would  be,  linked  to  the  man  she  did  not  love ;  or  he  would 
have  given  Henry  four  hundred  thousand  crowns  to  keep 
her  at  home. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

PROSERPINA 

So  the  value  received  for  Wolsey's  friendship  to  Bran 
don  was  Mary's  promise  to  marry  Louis. 

Mary  wanted  to  send  a  message  at  once  to  Brandon, 
telling  him  his  life  would  be  spared,  and  that  she  had  made 
no  delay  this  time — a  fact  of  which  she  was  very  proud — 
but  the  Tower  gates  would  not  open  until  morning,  so 
she  had  to  wait.  She  compensated  herself  as  well  as  she 
could  by  writing  a  letter,  which  I  should  like  to  give  you 
here,  but  it  is  too  long.  She  told  him  of  his  pardon,  but 
not  one  word  upon  the  theme  he  so  wished  yet  feared  to 
hear  of — her  promise  never  to  wed  any  other  man.  Mary 
had  not  told  him  of  her  final  surrender  in  the  matter  of 
the  French  marriage,  for  the  reason  that  she  dreaded  to 
pain  him,  and  feared  he  might  refuse  the  sacrifice. 

"It  will  almost  kill  him,  I  know,"  she  said  to  Jane  that 
night,  "and  I  fear  it  is  a  false  kindness  I  do  him.  He 
would,  probably,  rather  die  than  that  I  should  marry  an 
other  ;  I  know  that  I  should  rather  die,  or  have  anything 
else  terrible  to  happen,  than  for  another  woman  to  possess 
him.  He  promised  me  he  never  would;  but  suppose  he 
should  fail  in  his  word,  as  I  have  to-day  failed  in  mine. 
The  thought  of  it  absolutely  burns  me."  And  she  threw 
herself  into  Jane's  arms,  and  that  little  comforter  tried  to 
soothe  her  by  making  light  of  her  fears. 

"Oh!  but  suppose  he  should?" 

"Well !  there  is  no  need  to  borrow  trouble.    You  said 

(249) 


250      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

he  promised  you,  and  you  know  he  is  one  who  keeps  his 
word." 

"But  I  promised,  too,  and  think  of  what  I  am  about  to 
do.  Mary  in  heaven,  help  me!  But  he  is  made  of  dif- 
ferent  stuff  from  me..  I  can  and~3o  trust  his  word,  and 
when  I  think  of  all  my  troubles,  and  when  it  seems  that  I 
can  not  bear  them,  the  one  comforting  thought  comes  that 
no  other  woman  will  ever  possess  him ;  no  other  woman ; 
no  other  woman.  I  am  glad  that  my  only  comfort  comes 
from  him." 

"I  hoped  that  I  might  have  been  some  comfort  to  you ; 
I  have  tried  hard  enough,"  said  Jane,  who  was  jealous. 

"Oh !  yes !  my  sweet  Jane ;  you  do  comfort  me ;  you 
are  like  a  soothing  balm  to  an  aching  pain,"  and  she  kissed 
the  hands  that  held  hers.  This  was  all  that  modest  little 
Jane  required.  She  was  content  to  be  an  humble  balm 
and  did  not  aspire  to  the  dignity  of  an  elixir. 

The  girls  then  said  their  prayers  in  concert  and  Mary 
gently  wept  herself  to  sleep.  She  lay  dreaming  and  toss 
ing  nervously  until  sunrise,  when  she  got  up  and  added 
more  pages  to  her  letter,  until  I  called  to  take  it. 

I  was  on  hand  soon  after  the  Tower  gates  had  opened 
and  was  permitted  to  see  Brandon  at  once.  He  read 
Mary's  letter  and  acted  like  every  other  lover,  since  love- 
letters  first  began.  He  was  quick  to  note  the  absence  of 
the  longed  for,  but  not  expected,  assurance,  and  when  he 
did  not  see  it  went  straight  to  the  point. 

"She  has  promised  to  marry  the  French  king  to  pur 
chase  my  life.  Is  that  not  true  ?" 

"I  hope  not,"  I  answered  evasively ;  "I  have  seen  very 
little  of  her,  and  she  has  said  nothing  about  it." 

"You  are  evading  my  question,  I  see.  Do  you  know 
nothing  of  it  ?" 


PROSERPINA  251 

"Nothing,"  I  replied,  telling  an  unnecessary  lie. 

"Caskoden,  you  are  either  a  liar  or  a  blockhead." 

"Make  it  a  liar,  Brandon,"  said  I,  laughingly,  for  I  was 
sure  of  my  place  in  his  heart  and  knew  that  he  meant  no 
offense. 

I  never  doubt  a  friend ;  one  would  better  be  trustful  of 
ninety-nine  friends  who  are  false,  than  doubtful  of  one 
who  is  true.  Suspicion  and  supersensitiveness  are  at  once 
the  badge  and  the  bane  of  a  little  soul. 

I  did  not  leave  the  Tower  until  noon,  and  Brandon's 
pardon  had  been  delivered  to  him  before  I  left.  He  was 
glad  that  the  first  news  of  it  had  come  from  Mary. 

He  naturally  expected  his  liberty  at  once,  and  when  told 
that  he  was  to  be  honorably  detained  for  a  short  time, 
turned  to  me  and  said :  "I  suppose  they  are  afraid  to  let 
me  out  until  she  is  off  for  France.  King  Henry  flatters 
me." 

I  looked  out  of  the  window  up  Tower  street  and  said 
nothing. 

When  I  left  I  took  a  letter  to  Mary,  which  plainly  told 
her  he  had  divined  it  all,  and  she  wrote  a  tear-stained 
answer,  begging  him  to  forgive  her  for  having  saved  his 
life  at  a  cost  greater  than  her  own. 

For  several  days  I  was  kept  busy  carrying  letters  from 
Greenwich  to  the  Tower  and  back  again,  but  soon  letters 
ceased  to  satisfy  Mary,  and  she  made  up  her  mind  that 
she  must  see  him.  Nothing  else  would  do.  She  must 
not,  could  not,  and,  in  short,  would  not  o-o  another  day 
without  seeing  him;  no,  not  another  hour.  Jane  and  I 
opposed  her  all  we  could,  but  the  best  we  could  accom 
plish  was  to  induce  her  for  Brandon's  sake — for  she  was 
beginning  to  see  that  he  was  the  one  who  had  to  suffer 
for  her  indiscretions — to  ask  Henry's  permission,  and  if 


252      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

he  refused,  then  try  some  other  way.  To  determine  was 
to  act  with  Mary,  so  off  she  went  without  delay  to  hunt 
the  king,  taking  Jane  and  me  along  as  escort.  How  full 
we  were  of  important  business,  as  we  scurried  along  the 
corridors,  one  on  each  side  of  Mary,  all  talking  excitedly 
at  once.  When  anything  was  to  be  done,  it  always  re 
quired  three  of  us  to  do  it. 

We  found  the  king,  and  without  any  prelude,  Mary 
proffered  her  request.  Of  course  it  was  refused.  Mary 
pouted  and  was  getting  ready  for  an  outburst,  when 
Wolsey  spoke  up:  "With  your  majesty's  gracious  per 
mission,  I  would  subscribe  to  the  petition  of  the  princess. 
She  has  been  good  enough  to  give  her  promise  in  the  mat 
ter  of  so  much  importance  to  us,  and  in  so  small  a  thing 
as  this  I  hope  you  may  see  your  way  clear  toward  favor 
ing  her.  The  interview  will  be  the  last  and  may  help  to 
make  her  duty  easier."  Mary  gave  the  cardinal  a  fleeting 
glance  from  her  lustrous  eyes  full  of  surprise  and  grati 
tude,  and  as  speaking  as  a  book. 

Henry  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  us  for  a  moment, 
and  broke  into  a  boisterous  laugh : 

"Oh,  I  don't  care,  so  that  you  keep  it  a  secret.  The  old 
king  will  never  know.  We  can  hurry  up  the  marriage. 
He  is  getting  too  much  already ;  four  hundred  thousand 
crowns  and  a  girl  like  you ;  he  can  not  complain  if  he  have 
an  heir.  It  would  be  a  good  joke  on  the  miserly  old 
dotard,  but  better  on  'Ce  Gross  Garcon.' ' 

Mary  sprang  from  her  chair  with  a  cry  of  rage.  "You 
brute !  Do  you  think  I  am  as  vile  as  you  because  I  have 
the  misfortune  to  be  your  sister,  or  that  Charles  Brandon 
is  like  you  simply  because  he  is  a  man  ?"  Henry  laughed, 
his  health  at  that  time  being  too  good  for  him  to  be  ill- 


PROSERPINA  253 

natured.  He  had  all  he  wanted  out  of  his  sister,  so  her 
outbursts  amused  him. 

Mary  hurriedly  left  the  king  and  walked  back  to  her 
room  filled  with  shame  and  rage ;  feelings  actively  stimu 
lated  by  Jane,  who  was  equally  indignant. 

Henry  had  noticed  Jane's  frown,  but  had  laughed  at 
her,  and  had  tried  to  catch  and  kiss  her  as  she  left ;  but  she 
struggled  away  from  him  and  fled  with  a  speed  worthy  of 
the  cause. 

This  insulting  suggestion  put  a  stop  to  Mary's  visit  to 
the  Tower  more  effectually  than  any  refusal  could  have 
done,  and  she  sat  down  to  pour  forth  her  soul's  indigna 
tion  in  a  letter. 

She  remained  at  home  then,  but  saw  Brandon  later,  and 
to  good  purpose,  as  I  believe,  although  I  am  not  sure  about 
it,  even  to  this  day. 

I  took  this  letter  to  Brandon,  along  with  Mary's  minia 
ture — the  one  that  had  been  painted  for  Charles  of  Ger 
many,  but  had  never  been  given — and  a  curl  of  her  hair, 
and  it  looked  as  if  this  was  all  he  would  ever  possess  of 
her 

De  Longueville  heard  of  Henry's  brutal  consent  that 
Mary  might  see  Brandon,  and,  writh  a  Frenchman's  belief 
in  woman's  depravity,  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  keep 
them  apart.  To  this  end  he  requested  that  a  member  of 
his  own  retinue  be  placed  near  Brandon.  To  this  Henry 
readily  consented,  and  there  was  an  end  to  even  the  letter- 
writing.  Opportunities  increase  in  value  doubly  fast  as 
they  drift  behind  us,  and  now7  that  the  princess  could  not 
see  Brandon,  or  even  write  to  him,  she  regretted  with  her 
whole  soul  that  she  had  not  gone  to  the  Tower  when  she 
had  permission,  regardless  of  what  any  one  would  say  or 
think. 


254      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

Mary  was  imperious  and  impatient,  by  nature,  but  upon 
rare  and  urgent  occasions  could  employ  the  very  smooth 
est  sort  of  finesse. 

Her  promise  to  marry  Louis  of  France  had  been  given 
under  the  stress  of  a  frantic  fear  for  Brandon,  and  without 
the  slightest  mental  reservation,  for  it  was  given  to  save 
his  life,  as  she  would  have  given  her  hands  or  her  eyes, 
her  life  or  her  very  soul  itself ;  but  now  that  the  imminent 
danger  was  passed  she  began  to  revolve  schemes  to  evade 
her  promise,  and  save  Brandon  notwithstanding.  She  knew 
that  under  the  present  arrangement  his  life  depended  upon 
her  marriage,  but  she  had  never  lost  faith  in  her  ability  to 
handle  the  king  if  she  had  but  a  little  time  in  which  to  op 
erate,  and  had  secretly  regretted  that  she  had  not,  in  place 
of  flight,  opened  up  her  campaign  along  the  line  of  femi 
nine  diplomacy  at  the  very  beginning. 

Henry  was  a  dullard  mentally,  while  Mary's  mind  was 
keen  and  alert — two  facts  of  which  the  girl  was  perfectly 
aware — so  it  was  no  wonder  she  had  such  confidence  in 
herself.  When  she  first  heard  of  Brandon's  sentence  her 
fear  for  him  was  so  great,  and  the  need  for  action  so 
urgent,  that  she  could  not  resort  to  her  usual  methods  for 
turning  matters  her  way,  but  eagerly  applied  the  first  and 
quickest  remedy  offered.  Now,  however,  that  she  had  a 
breathing  spell,  and  time  in  which  to  operate  her  more 
slowly  moving,  but,  as  she  thought,  equally  sure  forces  of 
cajolery  and  persuasion,  she  determined  to  marshal  the 
legions  of  her  wit  and  carry  war  into  the  enemy's  country 
at  once. 

Henry's  brutal  selfishness  in  forcing  upon  her  the 
French  marriage,  together  with  his  cruel  condemnation  of 
Brandon,  and  his  vile  insinuations  against  herself,  had 
driven  nearly  every  spark  of  affection  for  her  brother  from 


PROSERPINA  255 

her  heart.  But  she  felt  that  she  might  feign  an  affection 
she  did  not  feel,  and  that  what  she  so  wanted  would  be 
cheap  at  the  price.  Cheap  ?  It  would  be  cheap  at  the  cost 
of  her  immortal  soul.  Cheap?  What  she  wanted  was 
life's  condense'd  sweets — the  man  she  loved ;  and  what  she 
wanted  to  escape  was  life's  distilled  bitterness — marriage 
with  the  man  she  loathed.  None  but  a  pure  woman  can 
kno  v  the  torture  of  that.  I  saw  this  whole  disastrous 
campaign  from  start  to  finish.  Mary  began  with  a  wide 
flank  movement  conducted  under  masked  batteries  and 
skillfully  executed.  She  sighed  over  her  troubles  and 
cried  a  great  deal,  but  told  the  king  he  had  been  such  a 
dear,  kind  brother  to  her  that  she  would  gladly  do  any 
thing  to  please  him  and  advance  his  interests.  She  said  it 
would  be  torture  to  live  with  that  old  creature,  King 
Louis,  but  she  would  do  it  willingly  to  help  her  handsome 
brother,  no  matter  how  much  she  might  suffer. 

The  king  laughed  and  said :  "Poor  old  Louis  !  What 
about  him?  What  about  his  suffering?  He  thinks  he  is 
making  such  a  fine  bargain,  but  the  Lord  pity  him,  when 
he  has  my  little  sister  in  his  side  for  a  thorn.  He  had 
better  employ  some  energetic  soul  to  prick  him  with  nee 
dles  and  bodkins,  for  I  think  there  is  more  power  for 
disturbance  in  this  little  body  than  in  any  other  equal 
amount  of  space  in  all  the  universe.  You  will  furnish  him 
all  the  trouble  he  wants,  won't  you,  sister  ?" 

"I  shall  try,"  said  the  princess  demurely,  perfectly  will 
ing  to  obey  in  everything. 

'  'Devil  a  doubt  of  that,  and  you  will  succeed  too,  or  my 
crown's  a  stew-pan,"  and  he  laughed  at  the  huge  joke  he 
was  about  to  perpetrate  on  his  poor,  old  royal  brother. 

It  would  seem  that  the  tremendous  dose  of  flattery  ad 
ministered  by  Mary  would  have  been  so  plainly  self-inter- 


256      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

ested  as  to  alarm  the  dullest  perception,  but  Henry's  vanity 
was  so  dense,  and  his  appetite  for  flattery  so  great,  that  he 
accepted  it  all  without  suspicion,  and  it  made  him  quite 
affable  and  gracious. 

Mary  kept  up  her  show  of  affection  and  docile  obedi 
ence  for  a  week  or  two  until  she  thought  Henry's  suspi 
cions  were  allayed ;  and  then,  after  having  done  enough 
petting  and  fondling,  as  she  thought,  to  start  the  earth 
itself  a-moving — as  some  men  are  foolish  enough  to  say 
it  really  does — she  began  the  attack  direct  by  putting  her 
arms  about  the  king's  neck,  and  piteously  begging  him  not 
to  sacrifice  her  whole  life  by  sending-  her  to  France. 

Her  pathetic  soul-charged  appeal  might  have  softened 
the  heart  of  Caligula  himself;  but  Henry  was  not  even 
cruel.  He  was  simply  an  animal  so  absorbed  in  himself 
that  he  could  not  feel  for  others. 

"Oh!  it  is  out  at  last,"  he  said  with  a  laugh.  "I 
thought  all  this  sweetness  must  have  been  for  something. 
So  the  lady  wants  her  Brandon  and  doesn't  want  her 
Louis,  yet  is  willing  to  obey  her  dear,  kind  brother  ?  Well, 
we'll  take  her  at  her  word  and  let  her  obey.  You  may  as 
well  understand,  once  and  for  all,  that  you  are  to  go  to 
France.  You  promised  to  go  decently  if  I  would  not  cut 
off  that  fellow's  head,  and  now  I  tell  you  that  if  I  hear 
another  whimper  from  you  off  it  comes,  and  you  will  go  to 
France  too." 

This  brought  Mary  to  terms  quickly  enough.  It  touched 
her  one  vulnerable  spot — her  love. 

"I  will  go ;  I  promise  it  again.  You  shall  never  hear 
another  word  of  complaint  from  me  if  you  give  me  your 
royal  word  that  no  harm  shall  come  to  him — to  him,"  and 
she  put  her  hands  over  her  face  to  conceal  her  tears  as  she 
softly  wept. 


PROSERPINA  257 

"The  day  you  sail  for  France,  Brandon  shall  go  free  and 
shall  again  have  his  old  post  at  court.  I  like  the  fellow 
as  a  good  companion,  and  really  believe  you  are  more  to 
blame  than  he." 

"I  am  all  to  blame,  and  am  ready  this  day  to  pay  the 
penalty.  I  am  at  your  disposal  to  go  when  and  where 
you  choose,"  answered  Alary  most  pathetically. 

Poor,  fair  Proserpina,  with  no  kind  mother  Demeter  to 
help  her.  The  ground  will  soon  open,  and  Pluto  will  have 
his  bride. 

That  evening-  Cavendish  took  me  aside  and  said  his  mas 
ter,  Wolsey,  wished  to  speak  to  me  privately  at  a  conveni 
ent  opportunity.  So,  when  the  bishop  left  his  card-table, 
an  hour  later,  I  threw  myself  in  his  way.  He  spoke  gayly 
to  me,  and  we  walked  down  the  corridor  arm  in  arm.  I 
could  not  imagine  what  was  wanted,  but  presently  it  came 
out :  "My  dear  Caskoden ;"  had  I  been  one  for  whom  he 
could  have  had  any  use  I  should  have  grown  suspicious. 
"My  dear  Caskoden,  I  know  I  can  trust  you;  especially 
when  that  which  I  have  to  say  is  for  the  happiness  of  your 
friends.  I  am  sure  you  will  never  name  me  in  connection 
with  the  suggestion  I  am  about  to  make,  and  will  use  the 
thought  only  as  your  own." 

I  did  not  know  what  was  coming,  but  gave  him  the 
strongest  assurance  of  my  trustworthiness. 

"It  is  this :  Louis  of  France  is  little  better  than  a  dead 
man.  King  Henry,  perhaps,  is  not  fully  aware  of  this, 
and,  if  he  is,  he  has  never  considered  the  probability  of  his 
speedy  death.  The  thought  occurred  to  me  that  although 
the  princess  can  not  dissuade  her  brother  from  this  mar 
riage,  she  may  be  able,  in  visw  of  her  ready  and  cheerful 
compliance,  to  extract  some  virtue  out  cf  her  sore  neces 
sity  and  induce  him  to  promise  that,  in  case  of  the  death 
i? 


258       WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

,    of  Louis,  she  herself  shall  choose  her  second  husband." 
\       "My  lord,"  I  replied,  quickly  grasping  the  point:     "It 
j  is  small  wonder  you  rule  this  land.    You  have  both  brain 
j  and  heart." 

"I  thank  you,  Sir  Edwin,  and  hope  that  both  may 
always  be  at  the  service  of  you  and  your  friends." 

I  gave  the  suggestion  to  Mary  as  my  own,  recommend 
ing  that  she  proffer  her  request  to  the  king  in  the  presence 
of  Wolsey,  and,  although  she  had  little  faith  or  hope,  she 
determined  to  try. 

Within  a  day  or  two  an  opportunity  offered,  and  she 
said  to  Henry :  "I  am  ready  to  go  to  France  any  time  you 
wish,  and  shall  do  it  decently  and  willingly ;  but  if  I  do  so 
much  for  you,  brother,  you  might  at  least  promise  me  that 
when  King  Louis  is  dead  I  may  marry  whomsoever  I 
wish.  He  will  probably  live  forever,  but  let  me  have  at 
least  that  hope  to  give  me  what  cheer  it  may  while  I  suf 
fer." 

The  ever-present  Wolsey,  who  was  standing  near  and 
heard  Mary's  petition,  interposed:  "Let  me  add  my 
prayer  to  that  of  her  highness.  We  must  give  her  her  own 
way  in  something." 

Mary  was  such  a  complete  picture  of  wretchedness  that 
I  thought  at  the  time  she  had  really  found  a  tender  spot  in 
Henry's  heart,  for  he  gave  the  promise.  Since  then  I  have 
learned,  as  you  will  shortly,  that  it  was  given  simply  to 
pacify  the  girl,  and  without  any  intention  whatever  of 
being  kept ;  but  that,  in  case  of  the  death  of  King  Louis, 
Henry  intended  again  to  use  his  sister  to  his  own  advan 
tage. 

To  be  a  beautiful  princess  is  not  to  enjoy  the  bliss  some 
people  imagine.  The  earth  is  apt  to  open  at  any  time,  and 
Pluto  to  snatch  her  away  to— the  Lord  knows  where. 


PROSERPINA  259 

Alary  again  poured  out  her  soul  on  paper — a  libation  in 
tended  for  Brandon.  I  had  made  a  dozen  attempts,  in  as 
many  different  ways,  to  deliver  her  letters,  but  every  effort 
was  a  failure,  and  this  missive  met  the  fate  of  the  others. 
De  Longueville  kept  close  watch  on  his  master's  rival,  and 
complained  to  Henry  about  these  attempts  at  communica 
tion.  Henry  laughed  and  said  he  would  see  that  they 
were  stopped,  but  paid  no  more  attention  to  the  matter. 

If  Mary,  before  her  interview  with  Henry,  had  been 
averse  to  the  French  marriage,  she  was  now  equally 
anxious  to  hurry  it  on,  and  longed  to  go  upon  the  rack  in 
order  that  Brandon  might  be  free.  He,  of  course,  objected 
as  strenuously  as  possible  to  the  purchase  of  his  life  by  her 
marriage  to  Louis,  but  his  better  judgment  told  him — in 
fact,  had  told  him  from  the  first — that  she  would  be  com 
pelled  eventually  to  marry  the  French  king,  and  common 
sense  told  him  if  it  must  be,  she  might  as  well  save  his  life 
at  the  same  time.  Furthermore,  he  felt  a  certain  sense  of 
delight  in  owing  his  life  to  her,  and  knew  that  the  fact  that 
she  had  saved  him — that  her  sacrifice  had  not  all  been  in 
vain — would  make  it  easier  for  her  to  bear. 

The  most  beautiful  feature  of  the  relations  between 
these  two  lovers  was  their  entire  faith  in  each  other.  The 
way  of  their  true  love  was  at  least  not  roughened  by  cob 
ble-stones  of  doubt,  however  impassable  it  was  from 
mountains  of  opposition. 

My  inability  to  deliver  Mary's  letters  did  not  deter  her 
from  writing  them ;  and  as  she  was  to  be  married  in  a  few 
days — de  Longueville  to  act  as  proxy — she  devoted  her 
entire  time  to  her  letters,  and  wrote  pages  upon  pages, 
wrhich  she  left  with  me  to  be  delivered  "after  death,"  as 
she  called  her  marriage. 

At  this  time  I  was  called  away  from  court  for  a  day  or 


260      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

two,  and  when  I  returned  and  called  upon  Brandon  at  the 
Tower,  I  found  him  whistling  and  singing,  apparently  as 
happy  as  a  lark.  "You  heartless  dog,"  thought  I,  at  first ; 
but  I  soon  found  that  he  felt  more  than  happiness — exal 
tation. 

"Have  you  seen  her?'''  I  asked. 

"Who  ?"  As  if  there  were  more  than  one  woman  in  all 
the  world  for  him. 

"The  princess." 

"Not  since  I  left  her  at  Bristol." 

1  believed  then,  and  believe  now,  that  this  was  a  point 
blank  falsehood — a  very  unusual  thing  for  Brandon — but 
for  some  reason  probably  necessary  in  this  case. 

There  was  an  expression  in  his  face  which  I  could  not 
interpret,  but  he  wrote,  as  if  carelessly  scribbling  on  a 
scrap  of  paper  that  lay  upon,  the  table,  the  words,  "Be 
careful,"  and  I  took  the  hint — we  were  watched.  There  is 
an  unpleasant  sensation  when  one  feels  that  he  is  watched 
by  unseen  eyes,  and  after  talking  for  awhile  on  common 
topics  I  left  and  took  a  boat  for  Greenwich. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  palace  and  saw  Mary,  what  was 
my  surprise  to  find  her  as  bright  and  jubilant  as  i  had  left 
Brandon.  She,  too,  laughed  and  sang,  and  was  so  happy 
that  she  lighted  the  whole  room.  What  did  it  all  mean? 
There  was  but  one  explanation ;  they  had  met,  and  there 
was  some  new  plan  on  foot — with  a  fatal  ending.  The 
next  failure  would  mean  death  to  Brandon,  as  certainly 
as  the  sun  rises  in  the  east.  What  the  plan  was  I  could 
not  guess.  With  Brandon  in  the  Tower  under  guard  both 
day  and  night,  and  Mary  as  closely  guarded  in  the  palace, 
I  could  not  see  any  way  of  escape  for  either  of  them,  nor 
how  they  could  possibly  have  come  together. 

Brandon  had  not  told  me,  I  supposed,  for  fear  of  being 


PROSERPINA  261 

overheard,  and  Mary,  although  she  had  the  opportunity, 
was  equally  non-communicative,  so  I  had  recourse  to  Jane 
upon  the  first  occasion.  She,  by-the-way,  was  as  blue  and 
sad-faced  as  Mary  was  joyous.  I  asked  her  if  the  princess 
and  Brandon  had  met,  and  she  sadly  said:  "I  do  not 
know.  We  went  down  to  London  yesterday,  and  as  we 
returned  stopped  at  Bridewell  House,  where  we  found  the 
king  and  Wolsey.  The  princess  left  the  room  saying  she 
would  return  in  a  few  minutes,  and  then  Wolsey  went  out, 
leaving  me  alone  with  the  king.  Mary  did  not  return  for 
half  an  hour,  and  she  may  have  seen  Master  Brandon 
during  that  time.  I  do  not  understand  how  the  meeting 
could  have  occurred,  but  that  is  the  only  time  she  has  been 
away  from  me."  Here  Jane  deliberately  put  her  head  on 
my  shoulder  and  began  to  weep  piteously. 

"What  is  the  trouble  ?"  I  asked. 

She  shook  her  head :    "I  can  not,  dare  not  tell  you." 

"Oh!  but  you  must,  you  must,"  and  I  insisted  so  em 
phatically  that  she  at  length  said : 

"The  king!" 

"The  king !  God  in  heaven,  Jane,  tell  me  quickly."  I 
had  noticed  Henry  of  late  casting  glances  at  my  beautiful 
little  Jane,  and  had  seen  him  try  to  kiss  her  a  few  days 
before,  as  I  have  told  you.  This  annoyed  me  very  much, 
but  I  thought  little  of  it,  as  it  was  his  habit  to  ogle  every 
pretty  face.  When  urged,  Jane  said  between  her  sobs: 
"He  tried  to  kiss  me  and  to — mistreat  me  when  Wolsey 
left  the  room  at  Bridewell  House.  I  may  have  been  used 
to  detain  him,  while  Mary  met  Master  Brandon,  but  if  so, 
I  am  sure  she  knew  nothing  of  it." 

"And  what  did  you  do?" 

"I  struggled  away  from  him  and  snatched  this  dagger 
from  my  breast,  telling  him  that  if  ue  took  but  ©ne  step 


262      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

toward  me  I  would  plunge  it  in  my  heart ;  and  he  said  I 
was  a  fool." 

"God  keep  you  always  a  fool,"  said  I  prayerfully. 
"How  long  has  this  been  going  on?'9 

"A  month  or  two ;  but  I  have  always  been  able  to  run 
away  from  him.  He  has  been  growing  more  importunate 
of  late,  so  I  bought  a  dagger  that  very  day,  and  had  it  not 
one  hour  too  soon."  With  this  she  drew  out  a  gleaming 
little  weapon  that  flashed  in  the  rays  of  the  candle. 

This  was  trouble  in  earnest  for  me,  and  I  showed  it  very 
plainly.  Then  Jane  timidly  put  her  hand  in  mine,  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life,  and  murmured : 

"We  will  be  married,  Edwin,  if  you  wish,  before  we 
return  from  France."  She  was  glad  to  fly  to  me  to  save 
herself  from  Henry,  and  I  was  glad  even  to  be  the  lesser 
of  two  evils. 

As  to  whether  my  two  friends  met  or  not  that  day  at 
Bridewell  I  can  not  say ;  but  I  think  they  did.  They  had 
in  some  way  come  to  an  understanding  that  lightened 
both  their  hearts  before  Mary  left  for  France,  and  this  had 
been  their  only  possible  opportunity.  Jane  and  I  were  al 
ways  taken  into  their  confidence  on  other  occasions,  but  as 
to  this  meeting,  if  any  there  was,  we  have  never  been  told 
a  word.  My  belief  is  that  the  meeting  was  contrived  by 
Wolsey  upon  a  solemn  promise  from  Brandon  and  Mary 
never  to  reveal  it,  and  if  so,  they  have  sacredly  kept  their 
word. 

On  the  13th  of  August,  1514,  Mary  Tudor,  with  her 

golden  hair  falling  over  her  shoulders,  was  married  at 

Greenwich  to  Louis  de  Valois ;  de  Longueville  acting  as 

i  his  French  majesty's  proxy.    Poor,  fair,  Proserpina  I  .  .  . 

Note. — Maidens  only  were  married  with  their  hair  down.  It 
was  "the  sacred  token  of  maidenhood."— Editor, 


CHAPTER  XX 

DOWN  INTO  FRANCE 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Mary  was  married  unto  Louis 
and  went  down  into  France. 

[Again  the  editor  takes  the  liberty  of  substituting  Hall's 
quaint  account  of  Mary's  journey  to  France.] 

Then  when  all  things  were  redy  for  the  conueyaunce  of  this 
noble  Ladye,  the  kyng  her  brother  in  the  moneth  of  Auguste, 
and  the  xV  daye,  with  the  quene  his  wife  and  his  sayde  sister 
and  al  the  court  came  to  Douer  and  there  taryed,  for  the  wynde 
was  troblous  and  the  wether  fowle,  in  so  muche  that  shippe  of 
the  kynges  called  the  Libeck  of  IXC.  tonne  was  dryuen  a  shore 
before  Sangate  and  there  brase  &  of  VI  C.  men  scantely  es 
caped  iiiC  and  yet  the  most  part  of  them  were  hurt  with  the 
wrecke.  When  the  wether  was  fay  re,  then  al  her  wardrobe, 
stable,  and  riches  was  shipped,  and  such  as  were  appoyncted 
to  geue  their  attendaunce  on  her  as  the  duke  of  Norfolke,  the 
Marques  of  Dorset,  the  Bysshop  of  Durham,  the  Earle  of  Surrey, 
the  lorde  Delawar,  sir  Thomas  Bulle}'n  and  many  other  knights, 
Squyers,  getlemen  &  ladies,  al  these  went  to  shippe  and  the 
sayde  ladye  toke  her  leaue  of  the  quene  in  the  castell  of  Douer, 
and  the  king  brought  her  to  the  sea  syde,  and  kissed  her,  and 
betoke  her  to  GOD  and  the  fortune  of  the  see  and  to  the 
gouernaunce  of  the  French  king  her  husband.  Thus  at  the 
hower  of  foure  of  the  clock  in  the  morenynge  thys  fayre  ladye 
toke  her  shippe  with  al  her  noble  compaignie:  and  when  they 
had  sayled  a  quarter  of  the  see,  the  wynde  rose  and  seuered 
some  of  the  shippes  to  Cayles,  and  some  in  Flaunders  and  her 
shippe  with  greate  difficultie  to  Bulleyn,  and  with  greate  ieop- 
ardy  at  the  entrying  of  the  hauen,  for  the  master  ran  the  shippe 
hard  ou  shore,  but  the  botes  were  redy  and  receyued  this  noble 

(263) 


264      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

ladye,  and  at  the  landyng  Sir  Christopher  Garnysha  stode  in 
the  water  and  toke  her  in  his  armes,  and  so  caryed  her  to  land, 
where  the  Duke  of  Vandosme  and  a  Cardynall  with  many  es 
tates  receyued  her,  and  her  ladies,  and  welcommed  all  the  noble 
men  into  the  cotmtrey,  and  so  the  quene  and  all  her  trayne  came 
to  Bulleyn  and  ther  rested,  and  from  thence  she  remoued  by 
dyuerse  lodgynges  tyll  she  came  all  most  within  iii  miles  of 
Abtiyle  besyde  the  forrest  of  Arders,  and  ther  kynge  Loyes 
vppon  a  greate  courser  met  her,  (which  he  so  longe  desired) 
but  she  toke  her  way  righte  on,  not  stopping  to  conurse.  Then 
he  returned  to  Abuyle  by  a  secret  waye,  &  she  was  with  greate 
triumphe,  procession  &  pagiantes  receyued  into  the  toune  of 
Abuyle  the  VIII  day  of  October  by  the  Dolphin,  which  receyued 
her  with  greate  honor.  She  was  appeareilled  in  cloth  of  siluer, 
her  horse  was  trapped  in  goldsmythes  work  very  rychly.  After 
her  followed  xxxvi  ladies  al  ther  palfreys  trapped  with  crymsyn 
veluet,  embraudered:  after  the  folowed  one  charyott  of  cloth 
of  tyssue,  the  seconde  clothe  of  golde  and  the  third  Crymsyn 
veluet  embraudered  with  the  kynges  armes  &  hers,  full  of  roses. 
After  them  folowed  a  greate  nomber  of  archers  and  then  wagons 
laden  with  their  stuf.  Greate  was  the  riches  in  plate,  iuels, 
money,  and  hangynges  that  this  ladye  brought  into  France. 
The  Moday  beyng  the  daye  of  Sayncte  Denyce,  the  same  kynge 
Leyes  maried  the  lady  Mary  in  the  greate  church  of  Abuyle, 
bothe  appareled  in  goldesmythes  woorke.  After  the  masse  was 
done  ther  was  a  greate  banket  and  fest  and  the  ladyes  of  Eng 
land  highlj  entreteyned. 

The  Tewesdaye  beyng  the  x  daye  of  October  all  the  English 
men  except  a  fewe  that  wer  officers  with  the  sayde  quene  were 
discharged  whiche  was  a  greate  sorowe  for  theim,  for  some  had 
serued  her  longe  in  the  hope  of  preferment  and  some  that  had 
honest  romes  left  them  to  serue  hei  and  now  they  wer  out  of 
seruice,  which  caused  the  to  take  thought  in  so  much,  some 
dyed  by  way  returning,  and  some  fell  mad,  but  ther  was  no 
remedy.  After  the  English  lordes  had  done  ther  commission 
the  French  kynge  wylled  the  to  take  no  lenger  payne  &  so  gaue 
to  theim  good  rewardes  and  they  toke  ther  leaue  of  the  quene 
and  returned. 

Then  the  Dolphyn  of  Fraunce  called  "JFratmcys  duSTe  of  Valoys, 


DOWN  INTO  FRANCE  265 

or  Fraunceys  d'Angouleme,  caused  a  solempne  iustes  to  be 
proclaymed,  which  shoulde  be  kept  in  Parys  in  the  moneth  of 
Noueber  next  ensuyng,  and  while  al  these  thinges  were  pre- 
pearyng,  the  Ladye  Alary,  the  V.  daye  of  Noueber,  then  beying 
Sondaye  was  with  greate  solempnitee  crowned  Queen  of 
Fraunce  in  the  monasterye  of  Saynct  Denyce,  and  the  Lorde 
Dolphyn,  who  was  young,  but  very  toward,  al  the  season  held 
the  crowune  ouer  her  hed,  because  it  was  of  greate  waight,  to 
her  greuaunce. 

Madame  Mary  took  her  time,  since  a  more  deliberate 
journey  bride  never  made  to  waiting  bridegroom.  She 
was  a  study  during  this  whole  period — weeping  and  angry 
by  turns.  She,  who  had  never  known  a  moment's  illness 
in  all  her  days,  took  to  her  bed  upon  two  occasions  from 
sheer  antipathetic  nervousness,  and  would  rest  her  head 
upon  Jane's  breast  and  cry  out  little,  half-articulate  prayers 
to  God  that  she  might  not  kill  the  man  who  was  her  hus 
band,  when  they  should  meet. 

When  we  met  the  king  about  a  league  this  side  of  Abbe 
ville,  and  when  Mary  beheld  him  with  the  shadow  of  death 
upon  his  brow,  she  took  hope,  for  she  knew  he  would  be 
but  putty  in  her  hands,  so  manifestly  weak  was  he,  men 
tally  and  physically.  As  he  came  up  she  whipped  her 
horse  and  rode  by  him  at  a  gallop,  sending  me  back  with 
word  that  he  must  not  be  so  ardent;  that  he  frightened 
her,  poor,  timid  little  thing,  so  afraid  of — nothing  in  the 
world.  This  shocked  the  French  courtiers,  and  one  would 
think  would  have  offended  Louis,  but  he  simply  grinned 
from  ear  to  ear,  showing  his  yellow  fangs,  and  said  whim 
peringly  :  ''Oh,  the  game  is  worth  the  trouble.  Tell  her 
majesty  I  wait  at  Abbeville.'' 

The  old  king  had  ridden  a  horse  to  meet  his  bride  in 
order  that  he  might  appear  more  gallantly  before  her,  but 


266      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

a  litter  was  waiting  to  take  him  back  to  Abbeville  by  & 
shorter  route,  and  they  were  married  again  in  person. 
[Again  a  quotation  from  Hall  is  substituted]  : 

Mondaye  the  .vi  daye  of  Noueber,  ther  the  sayde  quene  was 
receyued  into  the  cytee  of  Parys  after  the  order  thar  foloweth. 
First  the  garde  of  the  cytee  met  her  with  oute  Sayncte  Denyce 
al  in  coates  of  goldsmythes  woorke  with  shippes  gylt,  and  after 
them  mett  her  al  the  prestes  and  religious  whiche  were  estemed 
to  be  .iiiM.  The  quene  was  in  a  chyre  coured  about  (but  not 
her  ouer  person)  in  white  clothe  of  golde,  the  horses  that 
drewe  it  couered  in  clothe  of  golde,  on  her  hed  a  coronall,  al 
of  greate  perles,  her  necke  and  brest  full  of  luels,  before  her 
wente  a  garde  of  Almaynes  after  ther  fascion,  and  after  them 
al  noblemen,  as  the  Dolphyn,  the  Duke  of  Burbon,  Cardynalles, 
and  a  greate  nomber  of  estates.  Aboute  her  person  rode  the 
kynge's  garde  the  whiche  wer  Scottes.  On  the  morowe  bega 
the  iustes,  and  the  quene  stode  so  that  al  men  might  see  her, 
and  wonder  at  her  beautie,  and  the  kynge  was  feble  and  lay 
on  a  couche  for  weakenes. 

So  Mary  was  twice  married  to  Louis,  and,  although  she 
was  his  queen  fast  and  sure  enough,  she  was  not  his  wife. 

You  may  say  what  you  will,  but  I  like  a  fighting 
woman ;  one  with  a  touch  of  the  savage  in  her  when  the 
occasion  arises ;  one  who  can  fight  for  what  she  loves  as 
well  as  against  what  she  hates.  She  visually  loves  as  she 
fights — with  all  her  heart. 

So  Mary  was  crowned,  and  was  now  a  queen,  hedged 
about  by  the  tinseled  divinity  that  hedgeth  royalty. 

It  seemed  that  she  was  climbing  higher  and  higher  all 
the  time  from  Brandon,  but  in  her  heart  every  day  brought 
her  nearer  to  him. 

There  was  one  thing  that  troubled  her  greatly,  and  all 
the  time.  Henry  had  given  his  word  that  Brandon  should 
be  liberated  as  soon  as  Mary  had  left  the  shores  of  Eng- 


DOWN  INTO  FRANCE  267 

land,  but  we  had  heard  nothing  of  this  matter,  although 
we  had  received  several  letters  from  home.  A  doubt  of 
her  brother,  in  whom  she  had  little  faith  at  best,  made  an 
ache  at  her  heart,  which  seemed  at  times  likely  to  break 
it — so  she  said.  One  night  she  dreamed  that  she  had  wit 
nessed  Brandon's  execution;  her  brother  standing  by  in 
excellent  humor  at  the  prank  he  was  playing-  her,  and  it  so 
worked  upon  her  waking  hours  that  by  evening  she  was 
ill.  At  last  I  received  a  letter  from  Brandon — which  had 
been  delayed  along  the  road — containing  one  for  Mary. 
It  told  of  his  full  pardon  and  restoration  to  favor,  greater 
even  than  before ;  and  her  joy  was  so  sweet  and  quiet,  and 
yet  so  softly  delirious,  that  I  tell  you  plainly  it  brought 
tears  to  my  eyes  and  I  could  not  hold  them  back. 

The  marriage,  when  once  determined  upon,  had  not  cast 
her  down  nearly  so  deep  as  I  had  expected,  and  soon  she 
grew  to  be  quite  cheerful  and  happy.  This  filled  me  with 
regret,  for  I  thought  of  how  Brandon  must  suffer,  and  felt 
that  her  heart  was  a  poor,  flimsy  thing  to  take  this  trouble 
so  lightly. 

I  spoke  to  Jane  about  it,  out  she  only  laughed.  "Mary 
is  all  right,"  said  she ;  "do  not  fear.  Matters  will  turn  out 
better  than  you  think,  perhaps.  You  know  she  generally 
manages  to  have  her  own  way  in  the  end." 

"If  you  have  any  comfort  to  give,  please  give  it,  Jane. 
I  feel  most  keenly  for  Brandon,  heart-tied  to  such  a  will 
ful,  changeable  creature  as  Mary." 

"Sir  Edwin  Caskoden,  you  need  not  take  the  trouble  to 
speak  to  me  at  all  unless  you  can  use  language  more  re 
spectful  concerning  my  mistress.  The  queen  knows  what 
she  is  about,  but  it  appears  that  you  can  not  see  it.  I  see 
it  plainly  enough,  although  no  word  has  ever  been  spoken 
to  me  on  the  subject.  As  to  Brandon  being  tied  to  her,  it 


268      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

seems  to  me  she  is  tied  to  him,  and  that  he  holds  the  reins. 
He  could  drive  her  into  the  mouth  of  purgatory/* 

"Do  you  think  so?" 

"I  know  it." 

I  remained  in  thought  a  moment  or  two,  and  concluded 
that  she  was  right.  In  truth,  the  time  had  come  to  me 
when  I  believed  that  Jane,  with  her  good  sense  and  acute 
discernment,  could  not  be  wrong  in  anything,  and  I  think 
so  yet.  So  I  took  comfort  on  faith  from  her,  and  asked : 
"Do  you  remember  what  you  said  should  happen  before 
we  return  to  England  ?" 

Jane  hung  her  head.     "I  remember." 

"Well?" 

She  then  put  her  hand  in  mine  and  murmured,  "I  am 
ready  any  time  you  wish." 

Great  heaven !  I  thought  I  should  go  out  of  my  senses. 
She  should  have  told  me  gradually.  I  had  to  do  some 
thing  to  express  my  exultation,  so  I  walked  over  to  a 
bronze  statue  of  Bacchus,  about  my  size — that  is,  height — 
put  my  hat — which  I  had  been  carrying  under  my  arm — 
on  his  head,  cut  a  few  capers  in  an  entirely  new  and 
equally  antic  step,  and  then  drew  back  and  knocked  that 
Bacchus  down.  Jane  thought  I  had  gone  stark  mad,  and 
her  eyes  grew  big  with  wonder,  but  I  walked  proudly  back 
to  her  after  my  victory  over  Bacchus,  and  reassured  her 
— with  a  few  of  Mary's  messages  that  I  had  still  left  over, 
if  the  truth  must  be  told.  Then  we  made  arrangements 
that  resulted  in  our  marriage  next  morning. 

Accordingly,  Queen  Mary  and  one  or  two  others  went 
with  us  down  to  a  little  church,  where,  as  fortune  would 
have  it,  there  was  a  little  priest  ready  to  join  together  in 
the  holy  bonds  of  wedlock  little  Jane  and  little  me.  Every 
thing  so  appropriate,  you  see;  I  suppose  in  the  whole 


kMARY     .    .     .     SAID    MT  WAS  LIKE 
A  PLAY  WEDDING.'" 


DOWN  INTO  FRANCE  269 

world  we  couldn't  have  found  another  set  of  conditions  so 
harmonious.  Mary  laughed  and  cried,  and  laughed  again, 
and  clapped  her  hands  over  and  over,  and  said  it  was  "like 
a  play  wedding ;"  and,  as  she  kissed  Jane,  quietly  slipped 
over  her  head  a  beautiful  diamond  necklace  that  was 
worth  full  ten  thousand  pounds — aside,  that  is,  from  the 
millions  of  actual  value,  because  it  came  from  Mary.  "A 
play  wedding"  it  was;  and  a  play  life  it  has  been  ever 
since. 

We  were  barely  settled  at  court  in  Paris  when  Mary  be 
gan  to  put  her  plans  in  motion  and  unsettle  things  gener 
ally.  I  could  not  but  recall  Henry's  sympathy  toward 
Louis,  for  the  young  queen  soon  took  it  upon  herself  to 
make  life  a  burden  to  the  Father  of  his  People ;  and,  in  that 
particular  line,  I  suppose  she  had  no  equal  in  all  the  length 
and  breadth  of  Christendom. 

I  heartily  detested  King  Louis,  largely,  I  think,  because 
of  prejudice  absorbed  from  Man-,  but  he  was,  in  fact,  a 
fairly  good  old  man,  and  at  times  I  could  but  pity  him. 
He  was  always  soft  in  heart  and  softer  in  head,  especially 
where  women  were  concerned.  Take  his  crazy  attempt  to 
seize  the  Countess  of  Croy  while  he  was  yet  Duke  of  Or 
leans  ;  and  his  infatuation  for  the  Italian  woman,  for  whom 
he  built  the  elaborate  burial  vault — much  it  must  have 
comforted  her.  Then  his  marriage  to  dictatorial  little 
Anne  of  Brittany,  for  whom  he  had  induced  Pope  Alex 
ander  to  divorce  him  from  the  poor  little  crippled  owlet, 
Joan.  In  consideration  of  this  divorce  he  had  put  Caesar 
Borgia,  Pope  Alexander's  son,  on  his  feet  financially  and 
politically.  I  think  he  must  have  wanted  the  owlet  back 
again  before  he  was  done  with  Anne,  because  Anne  was  a 
termagant — and  ruled  him  with  the  heaviest  rod  of  iron 
she  could  lift.  But  this  last  passion — the  flickering,  sput- 


270      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

tering  flame  of  his  dotage — was  the  worst  of  all,  both  sub 
jectively  and  objectively ;  both  as  to  his  senile  fondness  for 
the  English  princess  and  her  impish  tormenting  of  him. 
From  the  first  he  evinced  the  most  violent  delight  in  Mary, 
who  repaid  it  by  holding  him  off  and  evading  him  in  a 
manner  so  cool,  audacious  and  adroit,  that  it  ^tamped  her 
queen  of  all  the  arts  feminine  and  demoniac.  Pardon  me, 
ladies,  if  I  couple  these  two  arts,  but  you  must  admit  they 
are  at  times  somewhat  akin.  Scon  she  eluded  him  so  com 
pletely  that  for  days  he  would  not  have  a  glimpse  of  her, 
while  she  was  perhaps  riding,  walking  or  coquetting  with 
some  of  the  court  gallants,  who  aided  and  abetted  her  in 
every  way  they  could.  He  became  almost  frantic  in  pur 
suit  of  his  elusive  bride,  and  would  expostulate  with  her, 
when  he  could  catch  her,  and  smile  uneasily,  like  a  man 
who  is  the  victim  of  a  practical  joke  of  which  he  does  not 
see,  or  enjoy,  the  point.  On  such  occasions  she  would 
laugh  in  his  face,  then  grow  angry — which  was  so  easy 
for  her  to  do — and,  I  grieve  to  say,  would  sometimes  al 
most  swear  at  him  in  a  manner  to  make  the  pious,  though 
ofttimes  lax-virtued,  court  ladies  shudder  with  horror. 
She  would  at  other  times  make  sport  of  his  youthful  ardor, 
and  tell  him  in  all  seriousness  that  it  was  indecorous  for 
him  to  behave  so  and  frighten  her,  a  poor,  timid  little 
child,  with  his  impetuosities.  Then  she  would  manage  to 
give  him  the  slip ;  and  he  would  go  off  and  play  a  game  of 
cards  with  himself,  firmly  convinced  in  his  own  feeble  way 
that  woman's  nature  had  a  tincture  of  the  devil  in  it.  He 
was  the  soul  of  conciliatory  kindness  to  the  young  vixen, 
but  at  times  she  would  break  violently  into  tears,  accuse 
him  of  cruelly  mistreating  her,  a  helpless  woman  and  a 
stranger  in  his  court,  and  threaten  to  go  home  to  dear  old 
England  and  tell  her  brother  King  Henry  all  about  it,  and 


DOWN  INTO  FRANCE  271 

have  him  put  things  to  right  and  redress  her  wrongs  gen 
erally.  In  fact,  she  acted  the  part  of  injured  innocence  so 
perfectly  that  the  poor  old  man  would  apologize  for  the 
wrongs  she  invented,  and  try  to  coax  her  into  a  good 
humor.  Thereupon  she  would  weep  more  bitterly  than 
ever,  grow  hysterical  and  require  to  be  carried  off  by  her 
women,  when  recovery  and  composure  were  usually  in 
stantaneous.  Of  course  the  court  gossips  soon  carried 
stones  of  these  quick  recoveries  to  the  king,  and,  when  he 
spoke  to  Mary  of  them,  she  put  on  her  injured  air  again 
and  turned  the  tables  by  upbraiding  him  for  believing  such 
calumnies  about  her,  who  was  so  good  to  him  and  loved 
him  so  dearly. 

I  tell  you  it  is  a  waste  of  time  to  fight  against  that  as 
sumption  of  injured  innocence — that  impregnable  femi 
nine  redoubt — and  when  the  enemy  once  gets  fairly  behind 
it  one  might  as  well  raise  the  siege.  I  think  it  the  most 
amusing,  exasperating  and  successful  defense  and  counter 
attack  in  the  whole  science  of  war,  and  every  woman  has 
it  at  her  finger-tips,  ready  for  immediate  use  upon  occa 
sion. 

Mary  would  often  pout  for  days  together  and  pretend 
illness.  Upon  one  occasion  she  kept  the  king  waiting  at 
her  door  all  morning,  while  she,  having  slipped  through 
the  window,  was  riding-  with  some  of  the  young  people  in 
the  forest.  When  she  returned — through  the  window — 
she  went  to  the  door  and  scolded  the  poor  old  king  for 
keeping  her  waiting  penned  up  in  her  room  all  morning. 
And  he  apologized. 

She  changed  the  dinner  hour  to  noon  in  accordance  with 
the  English  custom,  and  had  a  heavy  supper  at  night, 
when  she  would  make  the  king  gorge  himself  with  un- 
healthful  food  and  coax  him  "to  drink  as  much  as  brother 


272       WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

Henry,"  which  invariably  resulted  in  Louis  de  Valois  find 
ing  lodgment  under  the  table.  This  amused  the  whole 
court,  except  a  few  old  cronies  and  physicians,  who,  of 
course,  were  scandalized  beyond  measure.  She  took  the 
king  on  long  rides  with  her  on  cold  days,  and  would  jolt 
him  almost  to  death,  and  freeze  him  until  the  cold  tears 
streamed  down  his  poor  pinched  nose,  making  him  feel 
like  a  half  animated  icicle,  and  wish  that  he  were  one  in 
fact. 

At  night  she  would  have  her  balls,  and  keep  him  up  till 
morning  drinking  and  dancing,  or  trying  to  dance,  with 
her,  until  his  poor  old  heels,  and  his  head,  too,  for  that 
matter,  were  like  to  fall  off;  then  she  would  slip  away 
from  him  and  lock  herself  in  her  room.  December,  say  I, 
let  May  alone ;  she  certainly  will  kill  you.  Despite  which 
sound  advice,  I  doubt  not  December  will  go  on  coveting 
May  up  to  the  end  of  the  chapter ;  each  old  fellow — being 
such  a  fine  man  for  his  age,  you  understand — fondly  be 
lieving  himself  an  exception.  Age  in  a  fool  is  damnable. 

Mary  was  killing  Louis  as  certainly  and  deliberately  as 
if  she  were  feeding  him  slow  poison.  He  was  very  weak 
and  decrepit  at  best,  being  compelled  frequently,  upon 
public  occasions,  such,  for  example,  as  the  coronation 
tournament  of  which  I  have  spoken,  to  lie  upon  a  couch. 

Mary's  conduct  was  really  cruel!  but  then,  remember 
her  provocation  and  that  she  was  acting  in  self-defense. 
All  this  was  easier  for  her  than  you  might  suppose,  for  the 
king's  grasp  of  power,  never  very  strong,  was  beginning 
to  relax  even  what  little  grip  it  had.  All  faces  were  turned 
toward  the  rising-  sun,  young  Francis,  duke  of  Angouleme, 
the  king's  distant  cousin,  who  would  soon  be  king  in 
Louis's  place.  As  this  young  rising  sun,  himself  vastly 
smitten  with  Mary,  openly  encouraged  her  in  what  sh^ 


DOWN  INTO  FRANCE  273 

did,  the  courtiers  of  course  followed  suit,  and  the  old  king 
found  himself  surrounded  by  a  court  only  too  ready  to  be 
amused  by  his  lively  young  queen  at  his  expense. 

This  condition  of  affairs  Mary  welcomed  with  her  whole 
soul,  and  to  accent  it  and  nail  assurance,  I  fear,  played 
ever  so  lightly  and  coyly  upon  the  heart-strings  of  the 
young  duke,  which  responded  all  too  loudly  to  her  velvet 
touch,  and  almost  frightened  her  to  death  with  their  vol 
ume  of  sound  later  on.  This  Francis  d'Angouleme,  the 
dauphin,  had  fallen  desperately  in  love  with  Mary  at  first 
sight,  an  effect  against  which  the  fact  that  he  was  married 
to  Claude,  daughter  of  Louis,  in  no  way  militated.  He 
was  a  very  distant  relative  of  Louis,  going  away  back  to 
St.  Louis  for  his  heirship  to  the  French  crown.  The  king 
had  daughters  in  plenty,  but  as  you  know,  the  gallant 
Frenchmen  say,  according  to  their  Law  Salic:  "The 
realm  of  France  is  so  great  and  glorious  a  heritage  that  it 
may  not  be  taken  by  a  woman."  Too  great  and  glorious 
to  be  taken  by  a  woman,  forsooth !  France  would  have 
been  vastly  better  off  had  she  been  governed  by  a  woman 
now  and  then,  for  a  country  always  prospers  under  a 
queen. 

Francis  had  for  many  years  lived  at  court  as  the  recog 
nized  heir,  and  as  the  custom  was,  called  his  distant  cousin 
Louis,  "Uncle."  "Uncle"  Louis  in  turn  called  Francis  "Ce 
Gross  Gar  con"  and  Queen  Mary  called  him  "Monsieur, 
mon  beaufils,"  in  a  mock-motherly  manner  that  was  very 
laughable.  A  mother  of  eighteen  to  a  "good  boy"  of  twen 
ty-two!  Dangerous  relationship!  And  dangerous,  in 
deed,  it  would  have  been  for  Mary,  had  she  not  been  as 
pure  and  true  as  she  was  willful  and  impetuous.  "Mon 
beau  fils"  allowed  neither  his  wife  nor  the  respect  he  owed 
the  king  to  stand  in  the  way  of  his  very  marked  attention 


274      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

to  the  queen.  His  position  as  heir,  and  his  long  residence 
at  court,  almost  as  son  to  Louis,  gave  him  ample  oppor 
tunities  for  pressing  his  unseemly  suit.  He  was  the  first 
to  see  Mary  at  the  meeting  place  this  side  of  Abbeville, 
and  was  the  king's  representative  on  all  occasions. 

"Beau  fils"  was  quite  a  handsome  fellow,  but  thought 
himself  vastly  handsomer  than  he  was;  and  had  some 
talents,  which  he  was  likewise  careful  to  estimate  at  their 
full  value,  to  say  the  least.  He  was  quite  well  liked  by 
women,  and  in  turn  considered  himself  irresistible.  He 
was  very  impressionable  to  feminine  charms,  was  at  heart 
a  libertine,  and,  as  he  grew  older,  became  a  debauchee 
whose  memory  will  taint  France  for  centuries  to  come. 

Mary  saw  his  weakness  more  clearly  than  his  wicked 
ness,  being-  blinded  to  the  latter  by  the  veil  of  her  own 
innocence.  She  laughed  at,  and  with  him,  and  permitted 
herself  a  great  deal  of  his  company ;  so  much,  in  fact,  that 
I  grew  a  little  jealous  for  Brandon's  sake,  and,  if  the  truth 
must  be  told,  for  the  first  time  began  to  have  doubts  of 
her.  I  seriously  feared  that  when  Louis  should  die,  Bran 
don  might  find  a  much  more  dangerous  rival  in  the  new 
king,  who,  although  married,  would  probably  try  to  keep 
Mary  at  his  court,  even  should  he  be  driven  to  the  extreme 
of  divorcing  Claude,  as  Claude's  father  had  divorced  Joan. 

I  believed,  in  case  Mary  should  voluntarily  prove  false 
and  remain  in  France,  either  as  the  wife  or  mistress  of 
Francis,  that  Brandon  would  quietly  but  surely  contrive 
some  means  to  take  her  life,  and  I  hoped  he  would.  I 
spoke  to  my  wife,  Jane,  about  the  queen's  conduct,  and 
she  finally  admitted  that  she  did  not  like  it,  so  I,  unable  to 
remain  silent  any  longer,  determined  to  put  Mary  on  her 
guard,  and  for  that  purpose  spoke  very  freely  to  her  on 
the  subject. 


DOWN  INTO  FRANCE  275 

"Oh !  you  goose !''  she  said  laughingly.  "He  is  almost 
as  great  a  fool  as  Henry."  Then  the  tears  came  to  her 
eyes,  and  half  angrily,  half  hysterically  shaking  me  by  the 
arm  she  continued :  "Do  you  not  know  ?  Can  you  not  see 
that  I  would  give  this  hand,  or  my  eyes,  almost  my  life, 
just  to  fall  upon  my  face  in  front  of  Charles  Brandon  at 
this  moment  ?  Do  you  not  know  that  a  woman  with  a  love 
in  her  heart  such  as  I  have  for  him  is  safe  from  every  one 
and  everything?  That  it  is  her  sheet  anchor,  sure  and 
fast  ?  Have  you  not  wit  enough  to  know  that  ?" 

"Yes,  I  have,"  I  responded,  for  the  time  completely  si 
lenced.  With  her  favorite  tactics,  she  had,  as  usual,  put 
me  in  the  wrong,  though  I  soon  came  again  to  the  attack. 

"But  he  is  so  base  that  I  grieve  to  see  you  with  him." 

"I  suppose  he  is  not  very  good,"  she  responded,  "but  it 
seems  to  be  the  way  of  these  people  among  whom  I  have 
fallen,  and  he  can  not  harm  me." 

"Oh !  but  he  can.  One  does  not  go  near  small-pox,  and 
there  is  a  moral  contagion  quite  as  dangerous,  if  not  so 
perceptible,  and  equally  to  be  avoided.  It  must  be  a  won 
derfully  healthy  moral  nature,  pure  and  chaste  to  the  core, 
that  will  be  entirely  contagion-proof  and  safe  from  it/' 

She  hung  her  head  in  thought,  and  then  lifted  her  eyes 
appealingly  to  me.  "Am  I  not  that,  Edwin?  Tell  me! 
Tell  me  frankly ;  am  I  not  ?  It  is  the  one  thing  of  good  I 
have  always  striven  for.  I  am  so  full  of  other  faults  that 
if  I  have  not  that  there  is  no  good  in  me."  Her  eyes  and 
voice  were  full  of  tears,  and  I  knew  in  my  heart  that  I 
stood  before  as  pure  a  soul  as  ever  came  from  the  hand  of 
God. 

"You  are,  your  majesty ;  never  doubt,"  I  answered.  "It 
is  pre-eminently  the  one  thing  in  womanhood  to  which  all 
mankind  kneels."  And  I  fell  upon  my  knee  and  kissed  her 


276      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

hand  with  a  sense  of  reverence,  faith  and  trust  that  has 
never  left  me  from  that  day  to  this.  As  to  my  estimate  of 
how  Francis  would  act  when  Louis  should  die,  you  will  see 
that  I  was  right. 

Not  long  after  this  Lady  Caskoden  and  I  were  given 
permission  to  return  to  England,  and  immediately  pre 
pared  for  our  homeward  journey. 

Ah!  it  was  pretty  to  see  Jane  bustling  about,  making 
ready  for  our  departure — superintending  the  packing  of 
our  boxes  and  also  superintending  me.  That  was  her 
great  task.  I  never  was  so  thankful  for  riches  as  when 
they  enabled  me  to  allow  Jane  full  sway  among  the  Paris 
shops.  But  at  last,  all  the  fine  things  being  packed,  and 
Mary  having  kissed  us  both — mind  you,  both — we  got  our 
little  retinue  together  and  out  we  went,  through  St.  Denis, 
then  ho !  for  dear  old  England. 

As  we  left,  Mary  placed  in  my  hands  a  letter  for  Bran 
don,  whose  bulk  was  so  reassuring  that  I  knew  he  had 
never  been  out  of  her  thoughts.  I  looked  at  the  letter  a 
moment  and  said,  in  all  seriousness :  "Your  majesty,  had 
I  not  better  provide  an  extra  box  for  it  ?" 

She  gave  a  nervous  little  laugh,  and  the  tears  filled  her 
eyes,  as  she  whispered  huskily :  "I  fancy  there  is  one  who 
will  not  think  it  too  large.  Good-bye !  good-bye !"  So  we 
left  Mary,  fair,  sweet  girl-queen,  all  alone  among  those 
terrible  strangers;  alone  with  one  little  English  maiden, 
seven  years  of  age — Anne  Boleyn. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

LETTERS  FROM  A  QUEEN 

Upon  our  return  to  England  I  left  Jane  down  in  Suffolk 
with  her  uncle,  Lord  Bolingbroke,  having  determined 
never  to  permit  her  to  come  within  sight  of  King  Henry 
again,  if  I  could  prevent  it.  I  then  went  up  to  London 
with  the  twofold  purpose  of  seeing  Brandon  and  resign 
ing  my  place  as  Master  of  the  Dance. 

When  I  presented  myself  to  the  king  and  told  him  of 
my  marriage,  he  flew  into  a  great  passion  because  we  had 
not  asked  his  consent.  One  of  his  whims  was  that  every 
one  must  ask  his  permission  to  do  anything;  to  eat,  or 
sleep,  or  say  one's  prayers ;  especially  to  marry,  if  the  lady 
wras  of  a  degree  entitled  to  be  a  king's  ward.  Jane,  fortu 
nately,  had  no  estate,  the  king's  father  having  stolen  it 
from  her  when  she  was  an  infant ;  so  all  the  king  could  do 
about  our  marriage  was  to  grumble,  which  I  let  him  do  to 
his  heart's  content. 

"I  wish  also  to  thank  your  majesty  for  the  thousand 
kindnesses  you  have  shcun  me,"  I  said,  "and,  although  it 
grieves  me  to  the  heart  to  separate  from  you,  circum 
stances  compel  me  to  tender  my  resignation  as  your  Mas 
ter  of  Dance."  Upon  this  he  was  kind  enough  to  express 
regret,  and  ask  me  to  reconsider ;  but  I  stood  my  ground 
firmly,  and  then  and  there  ended  my  official  relations  with 
Henry  Tudor  forever. 

Upon  taking  my  leave  of  the  king  I  sought  for  Brandon, 
whom  I  found  comfortably  ensconced  in  our  old  quarters, 

(277) 


278      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

he  preferring  them  to  much  more  pretentious  apartments 
offered  him  in  another  part  of  the  palace.  The  king  had 
given  him  some  new  furnishings  for  them,  and  as  I  was  to 
remain  a  few  days  to  attend  to  some  matters  of  business, 
he  invited  me  to  share  his  comfort  with  him,  and  I  gladly 
_  did  so. 

Those  few  days  with  Brandon  were  my  farewell  to  in 
dividuality.  Thereafter  I  was  to  be  so  mysteriously  inter 
mingled  with  Jane  that  I  was  only  a  part — and  a  small  part 
at  that  I  fear — of  two.  I  did  not,  o£  course,  regret  the 
change,  since  it  was  the  one  thing  in  life  I  most  longed  for, 
yet  the  period  was  tinged  with  a  faint  sentiment  of  pathos 
at  parting  from  the  old  life  that  had  been  so  kind  to  me, 
and  which  I  was  leaving  forever.  I  say  I  did  not  regret  it, 
and  though  I  was  leaving  my  old  haunts  and  companions 
\  and  friends  so  dear  to  me,  I  was  finding  them  all  again  in 
~Jane,  who  was  friend  as  well  as  wife. 

Mary's  letter  was  in  one  of  my  boxes  which  had  been 
delayed,  and  Jane  was  to  forward  it  to  me  when  it  should 
come.  When  I  told  Brandon  of  it,  I  dwelt  with  emphasis 
upon  its  bulk,  and  he,  of  course,  was  delighted,  and  im 
patient  to  have  it.  I  had  put  the  letter  in  the  box,  but  there 
was  something  else  which  Mary  had  sent  to  him  that  I  had 
carried  with  me.  It  was  a  sum  of  money  sufficient  to  pay 
the  debt  against  his  father's  estate,  and  in  addition,  to  buy 
some  large  tracts  of  land  adjoining.  Brandon  did  not  hes 
itate  to  accept  the  money,  and  seemed  glad  that  it  had 
come  from  Mary,  she,  doubtless,  being  the  only  person 
from  whom  he  would  have  taken  it. 

One  of  Brandon's  sisters  had  married  a  rich  merchant  at 
Ipswich,  and  another  was  soon  to  marry  a  Scotch  gentle 
man.  The  brother  would  probably  never  marry,  so  Bran 
don  would  eventually  have  to  take  charge  of  the  estates. 


LETTERS  FROM  A  QUEEN  279 

In  fact,  he  afterwards  lived  there  many  years,  and  as  Jane 
and  I  had  purchased  a  little  estate  near  by,  which  had  been 
generously  added_to  by  Jane's  uncle,  we  saw  a  great  deal 
of  him.  But  I  am  getting  ahead  of  my  story  again. 

The  d'Angouleme  complication  troubled  me  greatly, 
notwithstanding  my  faith  in  Alary,  and  although  I  had  re 
solved  to  say  nothing  to  Brandon  about  it,  I  soon  told  him 
plainly  what  I  thought  and  feared. 

He  replied  with  a  low,  contented  little  laugh. 

"Do  not  fear  for  Mary,  I  do  not.  That  young  fellow  is 
of  different  stuff,  I  know,  than  the  old  king,  but  I  have  all 
faith  in  her  purity  and  ability  to  take  care  of  herself.  Be 
fore  she  left  she  promised  to  be  true  to  me,  whatever  be 
fell,  and  I  trust  her  entirely.  I  am  not  so  unhappy  by  any 
means  as  one  would  expect.  Am  I?"  And  I  was  com 
pelled  to  admit  that  he  certainly  was  not. 

So  it  seems  they  had  met,  as  Jane  and  I  suspected,  but 
how  Mary  managed  it  I  am  sure  I  can  not  tell ;  she  beat 
the  very  deuce  for  having  her  own  way,  by  hook  or  by 
crook.  Then  came  the  bulky  letter,  which  Brandon 
pounced  upon  and  eagerly  devoured.  I  leave  out  most  of 
the  sentimental  passages,  which,  like  effervescent  wine, 
lost  flavor  quickly.  She  said — in  part : 

"To  Master  Brandon: 

"Sir  and  Dear  Friend,  Greeting — After  leaving  thee, 
long  time  had  I  that  mighty  grief  and  dole  within  my 
heart  that  it  was  like  to  break ;  for  my  separation  from 
thee  was  so  much  harder  to  bear  even  than  I  had  taken 
thought  of,  and  I  also  doubted  me  that  I  could  live  in 
Paris,  as  I  did  \vish.  Sleep  rested  not  upon  my  weary 
eyes,  and  of  a  very  deed  could  I  neither  eat  nor  drink, 
since  food  distasted  me  like  a  nausea,  and  wine  did 


280      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

strangle  in  my  throat.  This  lasted  through  my  journey 
hither,  which  I  did  prolong  upon  many  pretexts,  nearly 
two  months,  but  when  I  did  at  last  rest  mine  eyes  for  the 
first  time  upon  this  King  Louis's  face,  I  well  knew  that  I 
could  rule  him,  and  when  I  did  arrive,  and  had  adjusted 
myself  in  this  Paris,  I  found  it  so  easy  that  my  heart 
leaped  for  very  joy.  Beauty  goeth  so  far  with  this  inflam 
mable  people  that  easily  do  I  rule  them  all,  and  truly  doth 
a  servile  subject  make  a  sharp,  capricious  tyrant.  Thereby 
the  misfortune  which  hath  come  upon  us  is  of  so  much  less 
evil,  and  is  so  like  to  be  of  such  short  duration,  that  I  am 
almost  happy — but  for  lack  of  thee — and  sometimes  think 
that  after  all  it  may  verily  be  a  blessing  unseen. 

"This  new,  unexpected  face  upon  our  trouble  hath  so 
driven  the  old  gnawing  ache  out  of  my  heart  that  I  love  to 
be  alone,  and  dream,  open-eyed,  of  the  time,  of  a  surety 
not  far  off,  when  I  shall  be  with  thee.  ...  It  is  ofttimes 
sore  hard  for  me,  who  have  never  waited,  to  have  to  w^ait, 
like  a  patient  Griselda,  which  of  a  truth  I  am  not,  for  this 
which  I  do  so  want ;  but  I  try  to  make  myself  content  with 
the  thought  that  full  sure  it  will  not  be  for  long,  and  that 
when  this  tedious  time  hath  spent  itself,  we  shall  look  back 
upon  it  as  a  very  soul-school,  and  shall  rather  joy  that  we 
did  not  purchase  our  heaven  too  cheaply. 

"I  said  I  find  it  easy  to  live  here  as  I  wish,  and  did  begin 
to  tell  thee  how  it  was,  when  I  ran  off  into  telling  of  how 
I  long  for  thee ;  so  I  will  try  again.  This  Louis,  to  begin 
with,  is  but  the  veriest  shadow  of  a  man,  of  whom  thou 
needst  have  not  one  jealous  thought.  He  is  on  a  bed  of 
sickness  most  of  the  time,  of  his  own  accord,  and  if,  per 
chance,  he  be  but  fairly  well  a  day  or  so,  I  do  straightway 
make  him  ill  again  in  one  way  or  another,  and,  please  God, 
hope  to  wear  him  out  entirely  ere  long  time.  Of  a  deed, 


LETTERS  FROM  A  QUEEN  281 

brother  Henry  was  right ;  better  had  it  been  for  Louis  to 
have  married  a  human  devil  than  me,  for  it  maketh  a  very 
one  out  of  me  if  mine  eyes  but  rest  upon  him,  and  thou 
knowest  full  well  what  kind  of  a  devil  I  make — brother 
Henry  knoweth,  at  any  rate.  For  all  this  do  I  grieve,  but 
have  no  remedy,  nor  want  one.  I  sometimes  do  almost 
compassionate  the  old  king,  but  I  can  not  forbear,  for  he 
turneth  my  very  blood  to  biting  gall,  and  must  e'en  take 
the  consequences  of  his  own  folly.  Truly  is  he  wild  for 
love  of  me,  this  poor  old  man,  and  the  more  I  hold  him  at  a 
distance  the  more  he  fondly  dotes.  I  do  verily  believe  he 
would  try  to  stand  upon  his  foolish  old  head,  did  I  but  in 
sist.  I  sometimes  have  a  thought  to  make  him  try  it.  He 
doeth  enough  that  is  senseless  and  absurd,  in  all  con 
science,  as  it  is.  At  all  of  this  do  the  courtiers  smile,  and 
laugh,  and  put  me  forward  to  other  pranks ;  that  is,  all  but 
a  few  of  the  elders,  who  shake  their  heads,  but  dare  do 
nothing  else  for  fear  of  the  dauphin,  who  will  soon  be 
king,  and  who  stands  first  in  urging  and  abetting  me.  So 
it  is  easy  for  me  to  do  what  I  wish,  and  above  all  to  leave 
undone  that  which  I  wish  not,  for  I  do  easily  rule  them 
all,  as  good  Sir  Edwin  and  dear  Jane  will  verify.  I  have  a 
ball  every  night,  wherein  I  do  make  a  deal  of  amusement 
for  every  one  by  dancing  La  Volta  with  his  majesty  until 
his  heels,  and  his  poor  old  head,  too,  are  like  to  fall  off. 
Others  importune  me  for  those  dances,  especially  the 
dauphin,  but  I  laugh  and  shake  my  head  and  say  that  I 
will  dance  with  no  one  but  the  king,  because  he  dances  so 
well.  This  pleases  his  majesty  mightily,  and  maketh  an 
opening  for  me  to  avoid  the  touch  of  other  men,  for  I  am 
jealous  of  myself  for  thy  sake,  and  save  and  garner  every 
little  touch  for  thee  ....  Sir  Edwin  will  tell  you  I  dance 
with  no  one  else  and  surely  never  will.  You  remember 


282      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

well,  I  doubt  not,  when  thou  first  did  teach  me  this  new 
dance.  Ah !  how  delightful  it  was  !  and  yet  how  at  first  it 
did  frighten  and  anger  me.  Thou  canst  not  know  how  my 
heart  beat  during  all  the  time  of  that  first  dance.  I 
thought,  of  a  surety,  it  would  burst;  and  then  the  wild 
thrill  of  frightened  ecstasy  that  made  my  blood  run  like 
fire!  I  knew  it  must  be  wrong,  for  it  was,  in  truth,  too 
sweet  a  thing  to  be  right.  And  then  I  grew  angry  at  thee 
as  the  cause  of  my  wrong-doing  and  scolded  thee,  and  re 
pented  it,  as  usual.  Truly  didst  thou  conquer,  not  win  me. 
Then  afterwards,  withal  it  so  frightened  me,  how  I  longed 
to  dance  again,  and  could  in  no  way  stay  myself  from  ask 
ing.  At  times  could  I  hardly  wait  till  evening  fell,  and 
when  upon  occasion  thou  didst  not  come,  I  was  so  angry  I 
said  I  hated  thee.  What  must  thou  have  thought  of  me, 
so  forward  and  bold !  And  that  afternoon !  Ah !  I  think 
of  it  every  hour,  and  see  and  hear  it  all,  and  live  it  o'er 
and  o'er,  as  it  sweeter  grows  with  memory's  ripening 
touch.  Some  moments  there  are,  that  send  the«r  glad 
ripple  down  through  life's  stream  to  the  verge  of  the 
grave,  and  truly  blest  is  one  who  can  smile  upon  and  kiss 
these  memory  waves,  and  draw  from  thence  a  bUss  that 
never  fails.  But  thou  knowest  full  well  my  heart,  and  I 
need  not  tease  thee  with  its  outpourings. 

"There  is  yet  another  matter  of  which  I  wish  to  write 
in  very  earnestness.  Sir  Edwin  spoke  to  me  thereof,  and 
what  he  said  hath  given  me  serious  thought.  I  th/mk  him 
for  his  words,  of  which  he  will  tell  thee  in  full  if  thou  but 
importune  him  thereto.  It  is  this :  the  Dauphin,  Francis 
d'Angouleme,  hath  fallen  desperately  fond  of  me>  and  is 
quite  as  importunate,  and  almost  as  foolish  as  the  elder 
lover.  This  people,  in  this  strange  land  of  France,  have, 
in  sooth,  some  curious  notions.  For  an  example  thereto : 


LETTERS  FROM  A  QUEEN  283 

no  one  thinks  to  find  anything  unseeming  in  the  dauphin's 
conduct,  by  reason  of  his  having  already  a  wife,  and  more, 
that  wife  the  Princess  Claude,  daughter  to  the  king.  I 
laugh  at  him  and  let  him  say  what  he  will,  for  in  truth  I 
am  powerless  to  prevent  it.  Words  can  not  scar  even  a 
rose  leaf,  and  will  not  harm  me.  Then,  by  his  help  and 
example  I  am  justified  in  the  eyes  of  the  court  in  that  I  so 
treat  the  king,  which  otherwise  it  were  impossible  for  me 
to  do  and  live  here.  So,  however  much  I  may  loathe 
them,  yet  am  I  driven  to  tolerate  his  words,  which  I  turn 
off  with  a  laugh,  making  sure,  thou  mayest  know,  that  it 
come  to  nothing  more  than  words.  And  thus  it  is,  how 
ever  much  I  wish  it  not,  that  I  do  use  him  to  help 
me  treat  the  king  as  I  like,  and  do  then  use  the  poor  old 
king  as  my  buckler  against  this  duke's  too  great  familiar 
ity.  But  my  friend,  when  the  king  comes  to  die  then  will  I 
have  my  fears  of  this  young  Francis  d'Angouleme.  He  is 
desperate  for  me,  and  I  know  not  to  what  length  he  might 
go.  The  king  can  not  live  long,  as  the  thread  of  his  life 
is  like  rotten  flax,  and  when  he  dies  thou  must  come  with 
out  delay,  since  I  wrill  be  in  deadly  peril.  I  have  a  mes 
senger  waiting  at  all  hours  ready  to  send  to  thee  upon  a 
moment's  notice,  and  when  he  comes  waste  not  a  precious 
instant ;  it  may  mean  all  to  thee  and  me.  I  could  write  on 
and  on  forever,  but  it  would  be  only  to  tell  thee  o'er  and 
o'er  that  my  heart  is  full  of  thee  to  overflowing.  I  thank 
thee  that  thou  hast  never  doubted  me,  and  will  see  that 
thou  hast  hereafter  only  good  cause  for  better  faith. 

"MARY,  Regina." 

"Regina!"  That  was  a1!.  Only  a  queen!  Surely  no 
one  could  charge  Brandon  with  possessing  too  modest 
tastes. 


284    WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

It  was,  I  think,  during-  the  second  week  in  December 
that  I  gave  this  letter  to  Brandon,  and  about  a  fortnight 
later  there  came  to  him  a  messenger  from  Paris,  bringing 
another  from  Mary,  as  follows : 

" 'Master  Charles  Brandon: 

"Sir  and  Dear  Friend,  Greeting — I  have  but  time 
to  write  that  the  king  is  so  ill  he  can  not  but  die  ere  morn 
ing.  Thou  knowest  that  which  I  last  wrote  to  thee,  and 
in  addition  thereto  I  would  say  that  although  I  have,  as 
thou  likewise  knowest,  my  brother's  permission  to  marry 
whom  I  wish,  yet  as  I  have  his  one  consent  it  is  safer  that 
we  act  upon  that  rather  than  be  so  scrupulous  as  to  ask  for 
another.  So  it  were  better  that  thou  take  me  to  wife  upon 
the  old  one,  rather  than  risk  the  necessity  of  having  to  do 
it  without  any.  I  say  no  more,  but  come  with  all  the  speed 
thou  knowest.  MARY." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Brandon  started  in  haste  for 
Paris.  He  left  court  for  the  ostensible  purpose  of  paying 
me  a  visit  and  came  to  Ipswich,  whence  ~we  sailed. 

The  French  king  was  dead  before  Mary's  message 
reached  London,  and  when  we  arrived  at  Paris,  Francis  I 
reigned  on  the  throne  of  his  father-in-law.  I  had  guessed 
only  too  accurately.  As  soon  as  the  restraint  of  the  old 
king's  presence,  light  as  it  had  been,  was  removed,  the 
young  king  opened  his  attack  upon  Mary  in  dreadful  earn 
est.  He  begged  and  pleaded  and  swore  his  love,  which 
was  surely  manifest  enough,  and  within  three  days  after 
the  old  king's  death  offered  to  divorce  Claude  and  make 
Mary  his  queen.  When  she  refused  this  flattering  offer 
his  surprise  was  genuine. 

"Do  you  know  what  you  refuse  ?"  he  asked  in  a  temper. 
"I  offer  to  make  you  my  wife — queen  of  fifteen  millions 


LETTERS  FROM  A  QUEEN  285 

of  the  greatest  subjects  on  earth — and  are  you  such  a  fool 
as  to  refuse  a  gift  like  that,  and  a  man  like  me  for  a 
husband  ?" 

"That  I  am,  your  majesty,  and  with  a  good  grace.  I 
am  Queen  of  France  without  your  help,  and  care  not  so 
much  as  one  penny  for  the  honor.  It  is  greater  to  be  a 
princess  of  England.  As  for  this  love  you  avow,  I  would 
make  so  bold  as  to  suggest  that  you  have  a  good,  true  wife 
to  whom  you  would  do  well  to  give  it  all.  To  me  it  is 
nothing,  even  were  you  a  thousand  times  the  king  you  are. 
My  heart  is  another's,  and  I  have  my  brother's  permission 
to  marry  him." 

"Another's  ?  God's  soul !  Tell  me  who  this  fellow  is 
that  I  may  spit  him  on  my  sword." 

"No !  no !  you  would  not ;  even  were  you  as  valiant 
and  grand  as  you  think  yourself,  you  would  be  but  a  child 
in  his  hands." 

Francis  was  furious,  and  had  Mary's  apartments 
guarded  to  prevent  her  escape,  swearing  he  would  have 
his  way. 

As  soon  as  Brandon  arrived  in  Paris  we  took  private 
lodgings,  and  well  it  was  that  we  did.  I  at  once  went  out 
to  reconnoiter,  and  found  the  widowed  queen  a  prisoner  in 
the  old  palace  des  Tournelles.  With  the  help  of  Queen 
Claude  I  secretly  obtained  an  interview,  and  learned  the 
true  state  of  aft'airs. 

Had  Brandon  been  recognized  and  his  mission  known  in 
Paris,  he  would  certainly  have  been  assassinated  by  order 
of  Francis. 

When  I  saw  the  whole  situation,  with  Mary  nothing  less 
than  a  prisoner  in  the  palace,  I  was  ready  to  give  up  with 
out  a  struggle,  but  not  so  Mary.  Her  brain  was  worth 
having,  so  fertile  \vas  it  in  expedients,  and  while  I  was 


286      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

ready  to  despair,  she  was  only  getting  herself  in  good 
fighting  order. 

After  Mary's  refusal  of  Francis,  and  after  he  had 
learned  that  the  sacrifice  of  Claude  would  not  help  him,  he 
grew  desperate,  and  determined  to  keep  the  English  girl 
in  his  court  at  any  price  and  by  any  means.  So  he  hit 
upon  the  scheme  of  marrying  her  to  his  weak-minded 
cousin,  the  Count  of  Savoy.  To  that  end  he  sent  a  hurried 
embassy  to  Henry  VIII,  offering,  in  case  of  the  Savoy 
marriage,  to  pay  back  Mary's  dower  of  four  hundred 
thousand  crowns.  He  offered  to  help  Henry  in  the  matter 
of  the  imperial  crown  in  case  of  Maximilian's  death — a 
help  much  greater  than  any  King  Louis  could  have  given. 
He  also  offered  to  confirm  Henry  in  all  his  French  posses 
sions,  and  to  relinquish  all  claims  of  his  own  thereto — all 
as  the  price  of  one  eighteen-year-old  girl.  Do  you  won 
der  she  had  an  exalted  estimate  of  her  own  value  ? 

As  to  Henry,  it,  of  course,  need  not  be  said,  that  half 
the  price  offered  would  have  bought  him  to  break  an 
oath  made  upon  the  true  cross  itself.  T^ he  promise  he  had 
made  to  Mary,  broken  in  intent  before  it  was  given,  stood 
not  for  one  instant  in  the  way  of  the  French  king's  wishes ; 
and  Henry,  with  a  promptitude  begotten  of  greed,  was  as 
hasty  in  sending  an  embassy  to  accept  the  offer  as  Francis 
had  been  to  make  it.  It  mattered  not  to  him  what  new 
torture  he  put  upon  his  sister;  the  price,  I  believe,  was 
sufficient  to  have  induced  him  to  cut  off  her  head  with  his 
own  hands. 

If  Francis  and  Henry  were  quick  in  their  movements, 

Mary  was  quicker.    Her  plan  was  made  in  the  twinkling 

of  an  eye.    Immediately  upon  seeing  me  at  the  palace  she 

j  sent  for  Queen  Claude,  with  whom  she  had  become  fast 

'friends,  and  told  her  all  she  knew.     She  did  not  know. 


LETTERS  FROM  A  QUEEN  287 

of  the  scheme  for  the  Savoy  marriage,  though  Queen 
Claude  did,  and  fully  explained  it  to  Mary.  Naturally 
enough,  Claude  would  be  glad  to  get  Mary  as  far  away 
from  France  and  her  husband  as  possible,  and  was  only  too 
willing  to  lend  a  helping  hand  to  our  purpose,  or  Mary's, 
rather,  for  she  was  the  leader. 

We  quickly  agreed  among  ourselves  that  Mary  and 
Queen  Claude  should  within  an  hour  go  out  in  Claude's 
new  coach  for  the  ostensible  purpose  of  hearing  mass. 
Brandon  and  I  were  to  go  to  the  same  little  chapel  in 
which  Jane  and  I  had  been  married,  where  Mary  said  the 
little  priest  could  administer  the  sacrament  of  marriage 
and  perform  the  ceremony  as  well  as  if  he  were  thrice  as 
large. 

I  hurriedly  found  Brandon  and  repaired  to  the  little 
chapel  where  we  waited  for  a  very  long  time,  we  thought. 
At  last  the  two  queens  entered  as  if  to  make  their  devo 
tions.  As  soon  as  Brandon  and  Mary,  caught  sight  of 
each  other,  Queen  Claude  and  I  began  to  examine  the 
shrines  and  decipher  the  Latin  inscriptions.  If  these  two 
had  not  married  soon  they  would  have  been  the  death  of 
me.  I  was  compelled  at  length  to  remind  them  that  time 
was  very  precious  just  at  that  juncture,  whereupon  Mary, 
who  was  half  laughing,  half  crying,  lifted  her  hands  to  her 
hair  and  let  it  fall  in  all  its  lustrous  wrealth  dowrn  over  her, 
shoulders.  When  Brandon  saw  this,  he  fell  upon  his  knee 
and  kissed  the  hem  of  her  gown,  and  she,  stooping  over 
him,  raised  him  to  his  feet  and  placed  her  hand  in  his. 

Thus  Alary  was  married  to  the  man  to  save  whose  life 
she  had  four  months  before  married  the  French  king. 

She  and  Queen  Claude  had  forgotten  nothing,  and  all 
arrangements  were  completed  for  the  flight.  A  messen 
ger  had  been  dispatched  two  hours  before  with  an  order 


288      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

from  Queen  Claude  that  a  ship  should  be  waiting  at 
Dieppe,  ready  to  sail  immediately  upon  our  arrival. 
f^  After  the  ceremony  Claude  quickly  bound  up  Mary's 
hair,  and  the  queens  departed  from  the  chapel  in  their 
""  coach.  We  soon  followed,  meeting  them  again  at  St. 
Denis  gate,  where  we  found  the  best  of  horses  and  four 
sturdy  men  awaiting  us.  The  messenger  to  Dieppe  who 
had  preceded  us  would  arrange  for  relays,  and  as  Mary, 
according  to  her  wont  when  she  had  another  to  rely  upon, 
had  taken  the  opportunity  to  become  thoroughly  fright 
ened,  no  time  was  lost.  We  made  these  forty  leagues  in 
less  than  twenty-four  hours  from  the  time  of  starting; 
having  paused  only  for  a  short  rest  at  a  little  town  near 
Rouen,  which  city  we  carefully  passed  around. 

We  had  little  fear  of  being  overtaken  at  the  rate  we  were 
riding,  but  Mary  said  she  supposed  the  wind  would  die 
down  for  a  month  immediately  upon  our  arrival  at  Dieppe. 
Fortunately  no  one  pursued  us,  thanks  to  Queen  Claude, 
who  had  spread  the  report  that  Mary  was  ill,  and  for 
tunately,  also,  much  to  Mary's  surprise  and  delight,  when 
we  arrived  at  Dieppe,  as  fair  a  wind  as  a  sailor's  heart 
could  wish  was  blowing  right  up  the  channel.  It  was  a 
part  of  the  system  of  relays — horses,  ship,  and  wind. 

"When  the  very  wrind  blowrs  for  our  especial  use,  we 
may  surely  dismiss  fear,"  said  Mary,  laughing  and  clap 
ping  her  hands,  but  nearly  ready  for  tears,  notwithstand 
ing. 

The  ship  was  a  fine  new  one,  well  fitted  to  breast  any 
sea,  and  learning  this,  we  at  once  agreed  that  upon  land 
ing  in  England,  Mary  and  I  should  go  to  London  and  win 
over  the  king  if  possible.  We  felt  some  confidence  in 
being  able  to  do  this,  as  we  counted  upon  Wolsey's  help, 
but  in  case  of  failure  we  still  had  our  plans.  Brandon 


LETTERS  FROM  A  QUEEN  289 

was  to  take  the  ship  to  a  certain  island  off  the  Suffolk 
coast  and  there  await  us  the  period  of  a  year  if  need  be,  as 
Mary  might,  in  case  of  Henry's  obstinacy,  be  detained; 
then  re-victual  and  re-man  the  ship  and  out  through  the 
North  Sea  for  their  former  haven,  New  Spain. 

In  case  of  Henry's  consent,  how  they  were  to  live  in  a 
style  fit  for  a  princess,  Brandon  did  not  know,  unless 
Henry  should  open  his  heart  and  provide  for  them — a 
doubtful  contingency  upon  which  they  did  not  base  much 
hope.  At  a  pinch,  they  might  go  down  into  Suffolk  and 
live  next  to  Jane  and  me  on  Brandon's  estates.  To  this 
Mary  readily  agreed,  and  said  it  was  what  she  wanted 
above  all  else. 

There  was  one  thing  now  in  favor  of  the  king's  acquies 
cence  :  during  the  last  three  months  Brandon  had  become 
very  necessary  to  his  amusement,  and  amusement  was  his 
greatest  need  and  aim  in  life. 

Man-  and  I  went  down  to  London  to  see  the  king,  hav 
ing  landed  at  Southampton  for  the  purpose  of  throwing 
off  the  scent  any  one  who  might  seek  the  ship.  The  king 
was  delighted  to  see  his  sister,  and  kissed  her  over  and 
over  again. 

C*l 

Mary  had  as  hard  a  game  to  play  as  ever  fell  to  the  lot 
of  woman,  but  she  was  equal  to  the  emergency  if  any 
woman  ever  was.  She  did  not  give  Henry  the  slightest 
hint  that  she  knew  anything  of  the  Count  of  Savoy  epi 
sode,  but  calmly  assumed  that  of  course  her  brother  had 
meant  literally  what  he  said  when  he  made  the  promise 
as  to  the  second  marriage. 

The  king  soon  asked :  "But  what  are  you  doing  here? 
They  have  hardly  buried  Louis  as  yet,  have  they?" 

"I  am  sure  I  do  not  know,"  answered  Mary,  "and  I 

certainly  care  less.     I  married  him  only  during  his  life, 
is 


290      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

and  not  for  one  moment  afterwards,  so  I  came  away  and 
left  them  to  bury  him  or  keep  him,  as  they  choose ;  I  care 
not  which." 

"But — "  began  Henry,  when  Mary  interrupted  him, 
saying :  "I  will  tell  you — " 

I  had  taken  good  care  that  Wolsey  should  be  present  at 
this  interview ;  so  we  four,  the  king,  Wolsey,  Mary  and 
myself,  quietly  stepped  into  a  little  alcove  away  from  the 
others,  and  prepared  to  listen  to  Mary's  tale,  which  was 
told  with  all  her  dramatic  eloquence  and  feminine  persua 
siveness.  She  told  of  the  ignoble  insults  of  Francis,  of 
his  vile  proposals — insisted  upon,  almost  to  the  point  of 
force — carefully  concealing,  however,  the  offer  to  divorce 
Claude  and  make  her  queen,  which  proposition  might  have 
had  its  attractions  for  Henry.  She  told  of  her  imprison 
ment  in  the  palace  des  Tournelles,  and  of  her  deadly  peril 
and  many  indignities,  and  the  tale  lost  nothing  in  the  tell 
ing.  Then  she  finished  by  throwing  her  arms  around 
Henry's  neck  in  a  passionate  flood  of  tears  and  begging 
him  to  protect  her — to  save  her !  save  her !  save  her !  his 
little  sister. 

It  was  all  such  perfect  acting  that  for  the  time  I  forgot 
it  was  acting,  and  a  great  lump  swelled  up  in  my  throat. 
It  was,  however,  only  for  the  instant,  and  when  Mary, 
whose  face  was  hidden  from  all  the  others,  on  Henry's 
breast,  smiled  slyly  at  me  from  the  midst  of  her  tears  and 
sobs,  I  burst  into  a  laugh  that  was  like  to  have  spoiled 
everything.  Henry  turned  quickly  upon  me,  and  I  tried  to 
cover  it  by  pretending  that  I  was  sobbing.  Wolsey  helped 
me  out  by  putting  a  corner  of  his  gown  to  his  eyes,  when 
Henry,  seeing  us  all  so  affected,  began  to  catch  the  fever 
and  swell  with  indignation.  He  put  Mary  away  from  him, 
and  striding  up  and  down  the  room  exclaimed,  in  a  voice 


LETTERS  FROM  A  QUEEN  291 

that  all  could  hear,  ''The  dog !  the  dog !  to  treat  my  sister 
so.  My  sister!  My  father's  daughter!  My  sister!  The 
first  princess  of  England  and  queen  of  France  for  his  mis 
tress  !  By  every  god  that  ever  breathed,  I'll  chastise  this 
scurvy  cur  until  he  howls  again.  I  swear  it  by  my  crown, 
if  it  cost  me  my  kingdom,"  and  so  on  until  words  failed 
him.  But  see  how  he  kept  his  oath,  and  see  how  he  and 
Francis  hobnobbed  not  long  afterward  at  the  Field  of  the 
Cloth  of  Gold. 

Henry  came  back  to  Mary  and  began  to  question  her, 
when  she  repeated  the  story  for  him.  Then  it  was  she  told 
of  my  timely  arrival,  and  how,  in  order  to  escape  and  pro 
tect  herself  from  Francis,  she  had  been  compelled  to  marry 
Brandon  and  flee  with  us. 

She  said :  "I  so  wanted  to  come  home  to  England  and 
be  married  where  my  dear  brother  could  give  me  away, 
but  I  was  in  such  mortal  dread  of  Francis,  and  there  was 
no  other  means  of  escape,  so — " 

"God's  death !  If  I  had  but  one  other  sister  like  you,  I 
swear  before  heaven  I'd  have  myself  hanged.  Married 
to  Brandon  ?  Fool !  idiot !  what  do  you  mean  ?  Married 
to  Brandon !  Jesu !  You'll  drive  me  mad !  Just  one 
other  like  you  in  England,  and  the  whole  damned  king 
dom  might  sink ;  I'd  have  none  of  it.  Married  to  Bran 
don  without  my  consent !" 

"No!  no!  brother,"  answered  Mary  softly,  leaning 
affectionately  against  his  bulky  form;  "do  you  suppose 
I  would  do  that?  Now  don't  be  unkind  to  me  when  I 
have  been  away  from  you  so  long!  You  gave  your  con 
sent  four  months  ago.  Do  you  not  remember?  You 
know  I  would  never  have  done  it  otherwise." 

"Yes,  I  know !  You  would  not  do  anything — you  did 
not  want ;  and  it  seems  equally  certain  that  in  the  end  you 


WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

always  manage  to  do  everything  you  do  want.  Hell  and 
furies!" 

"Why!  brother,  I  will  leave  it  to  my  Lord  Bishop  of 
York  if  you  did  not  promise  me  that  day,  in  this  very 
room,  and  almost  on  this  very  spot,  that  if  I  would 
marry  Louis  of  France  I  might  marry  whomsoever  I 
wished  when  he  should  die.  Of  course  you  knew,  after 
what  I  had  said,  whom  I  should  choose,  so  I  went  to  a 
little  church  in  company  with  Queen  Claude,  and  took  my 
hair  down  and  married  him,  and  I  am  his  wife,  and  no 
power  on  earth  can  make  it  otherwise,"  and  she  looked  up 
into  his  face  with  a  defiant  little  pout,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"Now,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?" 

Henry  looked  at  her  in  surprise  and  then  burst  out 
laughing.  "Married  to  Brandon  with  your  hair  down?" 
And  he  roared  again,  holding  his  sides.  Well,  you  do  beat 
the  devil;  there's  no  denying  that.  Poor  old  Louis! 
That  was  a  good  joke  on  him.  I'll  stake  my  crown  he 
was  glad  to  die!  You  kept  it  warm  enough  for  him,  I 
make  no  doubt." 

"Well,"  said  Mary,  with  a  little  shrug  of  her  shoulders, 
''he  would  marry  me." 

"Yes,  and  now  poor  Brandon  doesn't  know  the  trouble 
ahead  of  him,  either.  He  has  my  pity,  by  Jove !" 

"Oh,  that  is  different,"  returned  Mary,  and  her  eyes 
burned  softly,  and  her  whole  person  fairly  radiated,  so  ex 
pressive  was  she  of  the  fact  that  "it  was  different." 

Different?  Yes,  as  light  from  darkness;  as  love  from 
loathing;  as  heaven  from  the  other  place;  as  Brandon 
from  Louis ;  and  that  tells  it  all. 

Henry  turned  to  Wolsey :  "Have  you  ever  heard  any 
thing  equal  to  it,  my  Lord  Bishop?" 


LETTERS  FROM  A  QUEEN  293 

My  Lord  Bishop,  of  course,  never  had ;  nothing  that 
even  approached  it. 

"What  are  we  to  do  about  it?"  continued  Henry,  still 
addressing  Wolsey. 

The  bishop  assumed  a  thoughtful  expression,  as  if  to 
appear  deliberate  in  so  great  a  matter,  and  said:  "I  see 
but  one  thing  that  can  be  done,"  and  then  he  threw  in  a 
few  soft,  oily  words  upon  the  troubled  waters  that  made 
Mary  wish  she  had  never  called  him  "thou  butcher's  cur," 
and  Henry,  after  a  pause,  asked:  "Where  is  Brandon? 
He  is  a  good  fellow,  after  all,  and  what  we  can't  help  we 
must  endure.  He'll  find  punishment  enough  in  you.  Tell 
him  to  come  h6ThlPz:I*~strppose  you  have  "hifn"El3"around 
some  place — and  we'll  try  to  do  something  for  him." 

"What  will  you  do  for  him,  brother?"  said  Mary,  not 
wanting-  to  give  the  king's  friendly  impulse  time  to 
weaken. 

"Oh !  don't  bother  about  that  now,"  but  she  held  him 
fast  by  the  hand  and  would  not  let  go. 

"Well,  what  do  you  want?  Out  with  it.  I  suppose  I 
might  as  well  give  it  up  easily,  you  will  have  it  sooner  or 
later.  Out  with  it  and  be  done." 

"Could  you  make  him  Duke  of  Suffolk?" 

"Eh?  I  suppose  so.    What  say  you,  my  Lord  of  York?" 

York  was  willing — thought  it  would  be  just  the  thing. 

"So  be  it  then,"  said  Henry.  "Now  I  am  going  out 
to  hunt  and  will  not  listen  to  another  word.  You  will 
coax  me  out  of  my  kingdom  for  that  fellow  yet."  He 
was  about  to  leave  the  room  when  he  turned  to  Mary, 
saying :  "By  the  way,  sister,  can  you  have  Brandon  here 
by  Sunday  next?  I  am  to  have  a  joust." 

Mary  thought  she  could,  ....  and  the  great  event  was 
accomplished. 


294      WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER 

One  false  word,  one  false  syllable,  one  false  tone  would 
have  spoiled  it  all,  had  not  Mary — but  I  fear  you  are 
weary  with  hearing  so  much  of  Mary. 

So  after  all,  Mary,  though  a  queen,  came  portionless  to 
Brandon.  He  got  the  title,  but  never  received  the  estates 
of  Suffolk;  all  he  received  with  her  was  the  money  I 
carried  to  him  from  France.  Nevertheless,  Brandon 
thought  himself  the  richest  man  in  all  the  earth,  and 
surely  he  was  one  of  the  happiest.  Such  a  woman  as 
Mary  is  dangerous,  except  in  a  state  of  complete  subjec 
tion—but  she  was  bound  hand  and  foot  in  the  silken 
meshes  of  her  own  weaving,  and  her  power  for  bliss-mak 
ing  was  almost  infinite. 

And  now  it  was,  as  all  who  read  may  know,  that  this 
fair,  sweet,  willful  Mary  dropped  out  of  history;  a  sure 
token  that  her  heart  was  her  husband's  throne;  her  soul 
his  empire;  her  every  wish  his  subject,  and  her  will,  so 
masterful  with  others,  the  meek  and  lowly  servant  of  her 
strong  but  gentle  lord  and  master,  Charles  Brandon,  Duke 
of  Suffolk. 


NOTK  BY  THE  EDITOR 

SIR  EDWIN  CASKODEN'S  history  differs  in  some  minor  details 
from  other  authorities  of  the  time.  Hall's  chronicle  says  Sir 
William  Brandon,  father  of  Charles,  had  the  honor  of  being 
killed  by  the  hand  of  Richard  III  himself,  at  Bosworth  Field, 
and  the  points  wherein  his  account  of  Charles  Brandon's  life 
differs  from  that  of  Sir  Edwin  may  be  gathered  from  the  index 
to  the  1548  edition  of  that  work,  which  is  as  follows: 

CHARLES  BRANDON,  ESQUIRE, 

Is  made  knight, 

Created  Vicount  Lysle, 

Made  duke  of  Suffolke, 

Goeth  to  Paris  to  the  lustes, 

Doeth  valiantly  there, 

Returneth  into  England, 

He  is  sent  into  Fraunce  to  fetch  home  the  French  quene 
into  England, 

He  maryeth  her, 
and  so  on  until 

"He  dyeth  and  is  buryed  at  Wyndesore." 

No  mention  is  made  in  any  of  the  chronicles  of  the  office  of 
Master  of  Dance.  In  all  other  essential  respects  Sir  Edwin  is 
corroborated  by  his  contemporaries. 


(295) 


THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE  BOOK. 


THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE  BOOK, 

By  MAURICE  THOMPSON. 


When  a  man  does  something  by  which  the  world  is 
attracted,  we  immediately  feel  a  curiosity  to  know  all 
about  him  personally.  Mr.  Charles  Major,  of  Shelby- 
ville,  Indiana,  wrote  the  wonderfully  popular  histor 
ical  romance,  When  Knighthood  was  in  Flower,  which 
was  published  a  little  more  than  a  year  ago  and  has 
already  sold  over  two  hundred  thousand  copies. 

It  is  not  mere  luck  that  makes  a  piece  of  fiction 
acceptable  to  the  public.  The  old  saying,  "Where 
there  is  so  much  smoke  there  must  be  fire," 
holds  good  in  the  case  of  smoke  about  a  novel. 
When  a  book  moves  many  people  of  varying  tem 
peraments  and  in  all  circles  of  intelligence  there  is 
power  in  it.  Behind  such  a  book  we  have  the  right  to 
imagine  an  author  endowed  with  admirable  gifts  of 


2        THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE  BOOK. 

imagination.  The  ancient  saying,  "The  cup  is  glad 
of  the  wine  it  holds/'  was  but  another  way  of  express 
ing  the  rule  which  judges  a  tree  by  its  fruit  and  a 
man  by  his  works;  for  out  of  character  comes  style, 
and  out  of  a  man's  nature  is  his  taste  distilled.  Every 
soul,  like  the  cup,  is  glad  of  what  it  holds. 

Mr.  Major  himself  has  said,  in  his  straightforward 
way,  "It  is  what  a  man  does  that  counts."  By  this 
rule  of  measurement  Mr.  Major  has  a  liberal  girth. 
The  writing  of  When  Knighthood  was  in  Flower  was 
a  deed  of  no  ordinary  dimensions,  especially  when  we 
take  into  account  the  fact  that  the  writer  had  not  been 
trained  to  authorship  or  to  the  literary  artist's  craft; 
but  was  a  country  lawyer,  with  an  office  to  sweep 
every  morning,  and  a  few  clients  with  whom  to  worry 
over  dilatory  cases  and  doubtful  fees. 

' 


The  law,  as  a  profession,  is  said  to  be  a  jealous 
mistress,  ever  ready  and  maliciously  anxious  to  drop 
a  good-sized  stumbling  block  in  the  path  of  her  de 
votee  whenever  he  appears  to  be  straying  in  the 
direction  of  another  love.  Indeed,  many  are  the 
young  men  who,  on  turning  from  Blackstone  and  Kent 
in  a  comfortable  law  office  to  Scott  and  Byron,  have 
lost  a  lawyer's  living,  only  to  grasp  the  empty  air  of 
failure  in  the  fascinating  garret  of  the  scribbler.  But 
"nothing  succeeds  like  success,"  and  genius  has  a  way 
of  changing  rules  and  forcing  the  gates  of  fortune. 
And  when  we  see  the  proof  that  a  fresh  genius  has 
once  more  wrought  the  miracle  of  reversing  all  the 


CHARLES  MAJOR- 


THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE  BOOK.        3 

fine  logic  of  facts,  so  as  to  wring  success  and  fame 
out  of  the  very  circumstances  and  conditions  which 
are  said  to  render  the  feat  impossible,  we  all  wish  to 
know  how  he  did  it. 

Balzac,  when  he  felt  the  inspiration  of  a  new  novel 
in  his  brain,  retired  to  an  obscure  room,  and  there, 
with  a  pot  of  villainous  black  coffee  at  his  elbow, 
wrote  night  and  day,  almost  without  food  and  sleep, 
until  the  book  was  finished.  General  Lew  Wallace 
put  Ben  Hur  on  paper  in  the  open  air  of  a  beech 
grove,  with  a  bit  of  yellowish  canvas  stretched  above 
him  to  soften  the  light.  Some  authors  use  only  the 
morning  hours  for  their  literary  work;  others  prefer 
the  silence  of  night.  A  few  cannot  write  save  when 
surrounded  by  books,  pictures  and  luxurious  furni 
ture,  while  some  must  have  a  bare  room  with  nothing 
in  it  to  distract  attention.  Mr.  Charles  Major  wrote 
When  Knighthood  was  in  Flower  on  Sunday  after 
noons,  the  only  time  he  had  free  from  the  exactions 
of  the  law.  He  was  full  of  his  subject,  however,  and 
doubtless  his  clients  paid  the  charges  in  the  way  of 
losses  through  demurrers  neglected  and  motions  and 
exceptions  not  properly  presented! 

One  thing  about  Mr.  Major's  work  deserves  special1 
mention;  it  shows  conscientious  mastery  of  details,  a 
sure  evidence  of  patient  study.     What  it  may  lack 
as  literature  is   compensated   for  in   lawful   coin  of 
human  interest  and  in  general  truthfulness  to  the  facts 
and  the  atmosphere  of  the  life  he  depicts.     \VhenJ 
asked  how  he  arrived  at  his  accurate  knowledge  of 
old  London — London  in  the  time  of  Henry  VIII. — 


4       THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE  BOOK. 

he  fetched  an  old  book,  Stow's  Survey  of  London, 
from  his  library  and  said: 

"You  remember  in  my  novel  that  Mary  goes  one 
night  from  Bridewell  Castle  to  Billingsgate  Ward 
through  strange  streets  and  alleys.  Well,  that  journey 
I  made  with  Mary,  aided  by  Stow's  Survey,  with 
his  map  of  old  London  before  me." 

It  is  no  contradiction  of  terms  to  speak  of  fiction 
as  authentic.  Mere  vraisemblance  is  all  very  well 
in  works  of  pure  imagination;  but  a  historical  romance 
does  not  satisfy  the  reader's  sense  of  justice  unless 
its  setting  and  background  and  atmosphere  are  true 
to  time,  place  and  historical  facts.  Mr.  Major  felt 
-the  demand  of  his  undertaking  and  respected  it. 
;He  collected  old  books  treating  of  English  life  and 
manners  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  preferring  to 
saturate  his  mind  with  what  writers  nearest  the  time 
had  to  say,  rather  than  depend  upon  recent  historians. 
Jn  this  he  chose  well,  for  the  romancer's  art,  different 
from  the  historian's,  needs  the  literary  shades  and 
colors  of  the  period  it  would  portray. 

Another  clever  choice  on  the  part  of  our  author 

was  to  put  the  telling  of  the  story  in  the  mouth  of 

his    heroine's  contemporary.     This,  of  course,  had 

often  been  done  by  romancers  before  Mr.  Major; 

but  he  chose  well,  nevertheless.     Fine  literary  finish 

was  not  to  be  expected  of  a  Master  of  the  Dance  early 

in  the  sixteenth  century;  so  that  Sir  Edwin  Caskoden, 

i  and  not  Mr.  Major,  is  accepted  by  the  reader  as  re- 

!  sponsible  for  the  book's  narrative,  descriptive  and 

dramatic   style.     This   ruse,  so  to  call  it,  serves  a 


THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE  BOOK.        5 

double  purpose;  it  hangs  the  glamour  of  distance 
over  the  pages,  and  it  puts  the  reader  in  direct  com 
munication,  as  it  were,  with  the  characters  in  the  book. 
The  narrator  is  garrulous,  careless  in  the  construc 
tion  of  sentences,  and  often  far  from  artistic  with  his 
scenes  and  incidents;  but  it  is  Caskoden  doing  all 
this,  not  Mr.  Charles  Major,  and  we  never  think  of 
bringing  him  to  task!  Undoubtedly  it  is  good  art 
to  do  just  what  Mr.  Major  has  done — that  is,  it  is 
good  art  to  present  a  picture  of  life  in  the  terms  of 
the  period  in  which  it  flourished.  It  might  have  been 
better  art  to  clothe  the  story  in  the  highest  terms  of 
literature;  but  that  would  have  required  a  Shakes 
peare. 

The  greatest  beauty  of  Mr.  Major's  story  as  a 
piece  of  craftsmanship  is  its  frank  show  of  self-knowl 
edge  on  the  author's  part.  He  knew  his  equipment, 
and  he  did  not  attempt  to  go  beyond  what  it  enabled 
him  to  do  and  do  well. 

His  romance  will  not  go  down  the  ages  as  a  com 
panion  of  Scott's,  Thackeray's,  Hugo's  and  Dumas'; 
but  read  at  any  time  by  any  fresh-minded  person,  it 
will  afford  that  shock  of  pleasure  which  always  comes 
of  a  good  story  enthusiastically  told,  and  of  a  pretty 
love-drama  frankly  and  joyously  presented.  Mr. 
Major  has  the  true  dramatic  vision  and  notable  clev 
erness  in  the  art  of  making  effective  conversation. 

The  little  Indiana  town  in  which  Mr.  Major  lives 
and  practises  the  law  is  about  twenty  miles  from 
Indianapolis,  and  hitherto  has  been  best  known  as 
the  former  residence  of  Thomas  A.  Hendricks,  late 


6        THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE  BOOK. 

Vice-President  of  the  United  States.  Already  the 
tide  of  kodak  artists  and  autograph  hunters  has  found 
our  popular  author  out,  and  his  clients  are  being 
pushed  aside  by  vigorous  interviewers  and  reporters 
in  search  of  something  about  the  next  book.  But 
the  author  of  When  Knighthood  was  in  Flower  is  an 
extremely  difficult  person  to  handle.  It  is  told  of 
him  that  he  offers  a  very  emphatic  objection  to  hav 
ing  his  home  life  and  private  affairs  flaunted  before 
the  public  under  liberal  headlines  and  with  "copious 
illustrations." 

Mr.  Major  is  forty-three  and  happily  married; 
well-built  and  dark;  looking  younger  than  his  years, 
genial,  quiet  and  domestic  to  a  degree;  he  lives  what 
would  seem  to  be  an  ideal  life  in  a  charming  home, 
across  the  threshold  of  which  the  curiosity  of  the 
public  need  not  try  to  pass.  As  might  be  taken  for 
granted,  Mr.  Major  has  been  all  his  life  a  loving 
student  of  history. 

IF 

i        Perhaps  to  the  fact  that  he  has  never  studied  ro- 
I  mance  as  it  is  in  art  is  largely  due  his  singular  power 
over  the  materials  and  atmosphere  of  history.     At 
all  events,  there  is  something  remarkable  in  his  vivid 
pictures  not  in  the  least  traceable  to  literary  form  nor 
dependent   upon  a  brilliant    command    of  diction. 
i   The  characters  in  his  book  are  warm,  vascular,  pas 
sionate  human  beings,  and  the  air  they  breathe  is 
real  air.     The  critic  may  wince  and  make  faces  over 
frequent  and  glaring  lapses  from  taste,  and  protest 


JULIA    MARLOWE 
Who  will  play  the  heroine  in    "When    Knighthood  was  in   Flower 


THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE  BOOK.        7 

against  a  literary  style  which  cannot  be  defended  from 
any  point  of  view;  yet  there  is  Mary  in  flesh  and 
blood,  and  there  is  Caskoden,  a  veritable  prig  of  a 
good  fellow — there,  indeed,  are  all  the  dramatis  per 
sons,  not  merely  true  to  life,  but  living  beings. 

And  speaking  of  dramatis  person*,  of  course  When 
Knighthood  was  in  Flower  is  to  be,  or  by  this  time 
has  been,  dramatized.  It  could  not  be  the  great 
popular  success  it  is  and  hope  to  escape.  Mr.  Major 
tells  how,  soon  after  his  book  was  published,  his 
morning  mail  brought  him  an  interesting  letter  from 
a  prominent  New  York  manager,  pointing  out  the 
dramatic  possibilities  of  When  Knighthood  was  in 
Flower  and  asking  for  the  right  to  produce.  While 
this  letter  was  still  under  consideration,  a  telegram 
was  received  at  the  Shelby ville  office  which  read:  "I 
want  the  dramatic  rights  to  When  Knighthood  was 
in  Flower."  It  wras  signed  "Julia  Marlowe."  Mr. 
Major  felt  that  this  was  enough  for  one  morning,  so 
he  escaped  to  Indianapolis;  and,  after  a  talk  with  his 
publishers,  left  for  St.  Louis  and  answered  Miss 
Marlowe's  telegram  in  person.  At  the  first  inter 
view  she  was  enthusiastic  and  he  was  indifferent. 
She  gave  him  a  box  for  the  next  night's  performance, 
which  Miss  Marlowe  arranged  should  be  "As  You 
Like  It."  After  the  play  the  author  was  enthusi 
astic  and  the  actress  confident, 

At  Cincinnati,  the  following  week,  the  contract  was 
signed  and  the  search  for  the  dramatist  wras  begun. 
That  thestory  wouldlend  itselfhappily  to  stage  produc 
tion  must  have  occured,even  to  the  thoughtless  reader. 


8  THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE  BOOK. 

But  it  is  one  thing  to  see  the  scenes  of  a  play  fairly 
sticking  out,  as  the  saying  is,  from  the  pages  of  a 
book,  and  quite  another  to  gather  together  and  make 
of  them  a  dramatic  entity.  Mr.  Charles  Frohman, 
who  guides  Miss  Marlowe  in  her  stellar  orbit,  was 
determined  that  the  book  should  be  given  to  a  play 
wright  whose  dramatic  experience  and  artistic  sense 
could  be  relied  on  to  lead  him  out  of  the  rough  places, 
up  to  the  high  plane  of  convincing  and  finished  work 
manship.  Mr.  Henry  Guy  Carleton  was  the  gentle 
man  Mr.  Frohman  had  in  mind,  and  after  some  per 
suasion  Mr.  Carleton  undertook  the  work.  The 
result  is  said  to  be  wholly  satisfactory  to  author,  ac 
tress  and  manager — a  remarkable  achievement  indeed! 
New  York  City  is  to  see  Miss  Marlowe  as  Mary 
Tudor  early  in  the  fall  of  1 900,  and,  in  the  language 
of  the  advance  agent,  "this  beautiful  play  is  to  be 
given  a  gorgeous  production." 

Mr.  Major's  biography  shows  a  fine,  strong  Amer 
ican  life.  H e  was  born  in  I  ndianapolis,  July  25,1856. 
Thirteen  years  later  he  went  with  his  father's  family 
to  Shelbyville,  where  he  was  graduated  from  the 
public  school  in  1872,  and  in  1875  ne  concluded  his 
course  in  the  University  of  Michigan.  Later  he  read 
law  with  his  father,  ariel  in  '1877  was  admitted  to  the 
bar.  Eight  years  later.  ,he  stood  for  the  Legislature 
and  was  elecved'bn  the  Democratic  ticket.  H  e  served 
with  credit  one  term,  and  has  since  declined  all  polit 
ical  honors,  although  his  ability  and  personal  popu 
larity  make  him  just  the  man  for  success  at  the  polls. 


THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE  BOOK.  9 

The  title,  When  Knighthood  was  in  Flower,  was 
not  chosen  by  Mr.  Major,  whose  historical  taste  was 
satisfied  with  Charles  Brandon,  Duke  of  Suffolk. 
And  who  knows  but  that  the  author's  title  would 
have  proved  just  the  weight  to  sink  a  fine  book  into 
obscurity?  Mr.  John  J.  Curtis,  of  the  Bowen-Mer- 
rill  Company,  suggested  When  Knighthood  was  in 
Flower,  a  phrase  taken  from  Leigh  Hunt's  poem, 
the  Gentle  Armour. 

"There  lived  a  knight,  when  knighthood  was  in  flower, 
Who  charmed  alike  the  tilt-yard  and  the  bower." 

— MAURICE  THOMPSON,  in  The  Saturday  Evening  Post. 


"A    NOVEL    THAT'S    WORTH    WHILE" 

The  RED  EM  PT  I  ON 
of  DAVID  CORSON 

By    CHARLES    FREDERIC    Goss 

A  Mid-century   American    Novel 
of  Intense    Power    and    Interest 

"THE  INTERIOR"  says: 

"This  is  a  book  that  is  worth  while.  Though  it  tells  of  weakness  and  wickedness, 
of  love  and  license,  of  revenge  and  remorse  in  an  intensely  interesting  way,  yet  it  is 
above  all  else  a  clean  and  pure  story.  It  is  safe  to  say  no  one  can  read  it  and  honestly 
ask — 'what's  the  use.'  " 

NEWTON  D WIGHT  HILLIS,   Pastor  of  Plymouth  Church, 

Brooklyn,  says: 
"  'The  Redemption  of  David  Corson '  strikes  a  strong,  healthy  buoyant  note." 

Dr.  JOHN  H.    BARROWS,    President   Oherlin   College,  says: 

"There  are  descriptive  passages  in  it  as  exquisite  and  as  delightful  as  I  have  read  for 
years.  There  are  novel  scenes  and  situations  worthy  of  the  great  masters  of 


romance. 


Dr.    F.    W.    GUNSAULUS,   President  Armour  Institute,   says: 

"Mr.  Goss  writes  with  the  truthfulness  of  light.  He  has  told  a  story  in  which  the 
fact  of  sin  is  illuminated  with  the  utmost  truthfulness  and  the  fact  of  redemption  is 
portrayed  with  extraordinary  power.  There  are  lines  of  greatness  in  the  book  which 
I  shall  never  forget." 

President  M.    W.    STRTKER,   Hamilton   College,  says: 

"It  is  a  victory  in  writing  for  one  whose  head  seems  at  last  to  have  matched  his 
big  human  heart.  There  is  ten  times  as  much  of  reality  in  it  as  there  is  in  'David 
Harum,'  which  does  not  value  lightly  that  admirable  charcoal  sketch." 

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Toadstools 


Mushrooms 


AMERICAN  FUNGI 

The  Only  Complete  Book  on 
the  Subject. 

By 

CHARLES   McILVAINE 
«L 

CONTENTS 

Illustrations  and  Text 


38  fail-page  color  plates. 

25  fall-page  engravings. 

200  etchings  from  pen  and  ink 

drawings. 
Charts    and    diagrams    showing 

parts  of  fungi   which    aid    in 

tracing  species  to  their  genera 

and  names. 
Full  botanical  description  of  over 

800  species. 


How  to  distinguish  the  edible 
from  the  poisonous. 

Directions  for  cooking. 

Treatment  in  cases  of  "  toad 
stool"  poisoning. 

Complete  botanical  glossary. 

Indexes  referring  to  genera,  spe 
cies,  orders,  subdivisions,  fam 
ilies,  tribes  and  all  genera! 
matter. 


Edition  Limited  to  750  Copies.      Price,  $12.00  each 

The  Bowen- Merrill  Company,  Publishers 
Indianapolis,  U.  S.  A. 


ANOTHER     SUCCESSFUL 
HISTORICAL     NOVEL 


[From  The  New  York  Titnes,  Feb.  17,  1900] 

Apparently  When  Knighthood  was  in  Flower  is  not 
the  only  literary  prize  that  has  recently  been  captured 
by  the  Bowen-Merrill  Company.  Harris  Dickson's 
new  historical  romance,  published  by  this  house  only 
a  few  weeks  ago,  is  now  selling  in  its  twelfth  thou 
sand.  This  is  a  fascinating  tale  of  Old  and  N«w 
France,  and  the  scene  is  laid  in  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV.  The  story  is  well  written  in  an  autobiograph 
ical  style  in  good  imitation  of  the  age  in  which  the 
events  recounted  are  supposed  to  have  taken  place. 
The  illustrations,  which  are  historically  correct — the 
\vork  of  C.  M.  Relyea — have  been  conceived  with 
much  force  and  vigor.  Mr.  Dickson  is  a  young 
Vicksburg  lawyer,  and  The  Black  Wolf's  Breed  is 
his  first  sustained  flight  in  fiction.  The  strange  con 
trast  of  scenes — the  Court  of  France,  the  Indian  en 
campments  in  the  wilds  of  Louisiana — offer  the  au 
thor  abundant  opportunity  to  employ  a  picturesque, 
vivid  pen.  It  is  the  same  with  the  characters,  who 
appear,  and  disappear,  and  reappear  again — courtiers, 
adventurers,  knights  and  ladies,  Indian  braves  and 
squaws.  It  is  a  broad  canvas,  but  the  proportions  of 
the  foreground  and  the  perspective  are  carefully  and 
artistically  handled.  In  these  days,  when  real  life 
seems  so  full  of  romance,  people  are  strangely  drawn 
toward  these  books  of  romance,  history,  and  adven 
ture.  Evidently  The  Black  Wolfs  Breed  has  started 
upon  a  long  and  successful  career. 

Price,  $1.50.  Published  by 

The  Bowen-Merrill  Company,  IndianapolL 


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